


I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

by eloquentelegance, Loudest_Voice



Series: Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Byakugan Sasuke, Fix-It, Gen, Infidelity, Namikaze Minato Lives, No Kyuubi Attack, No Uchiha Massacre, Plot, Then we added new problems, Uzumaki Kushina Lives, the Hyuuga and the Uchiha are neighbors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-11-15 22:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11240931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquentelegance/pseuds/eloquentelegance, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loudest_Voice/pseuds/Loudest_Voice
Summary: “Is something the matter, sweetheart? What are you looking at?”At first, Sasuke doesn’t say anything, just frowns a little, his brow pinched. Mikoto quietly marvels at how similar his expression is to Fugaku’s. There’s something to be said about nurture, she supposes.“Mama,” Sasuke says, tugging at her sleeve, veins bulging around his active Byakugan. “There’s someone with Nii-san.”





	1. Pray You Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

> For Father's Day!
> 
> Loudest_Voice: I'm now at [loudest-voice](https://loudest-voice.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Chances are I won't be any better at this social media than any other. Come follow me if you got a tumblr!
> 
> Eloquentelegance: My tumblr is over at [cursedcomickids](https://cursedcomickids.tumblr.com/). It's mostly DC stuff but. Imma start putting some magic ninja content there too!!
> 
> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) and [@pentapus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/works) and [@Tanekore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TaneKore/pseuds/TaneKore) for beta-reading this!

Mikoto sets down the steaming cup. Fugaku nods his thanks, eyes trained on the stack of papers before him. Mikoto sighs and takes the seat opposite his.  
  
“When people come home early, it usually means they’re done working for the day,” Mikoto muses aloud. “How many so far?”  
  
“Seventeen at last count, but it’s hard to tell. The orphanage doesn’t have the personnel to keep decent records on top of their usual duties.” Fugaku pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “It simply doesn’t make any sense. There’s ten Hyuuga on the village watch roster. If someone could spirit away an infant under their constant vigilance…”  
  
“There is at least four hours’ worth of time wherein a Hyuuga won’t be on watch or with a Byakugan active.”  
  
“But those windows of opportunity aren’t exactly common knowledge. Very few people in the village know the Hyuuga sentries’ shifts, much less the dark times on the schedule.”  
  
Mikoto reaches over and takes Fugaku’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Then it makes perfect sense. Whoever is behind this, they’re someone from the upper ranks. That narrows down your search significantly.”  
  
Fugaku rubs his thumb over her scarred knuckles. “Forgive me if I don’t find this revelation heartening.”  
  
Mikoto smiles grimly and says nothing more. They settle into a companionable silence. Fugaku releases her hand, nursing his tea. Mikoto wets her lips, trying to find the right words.  
  
“Kushina visited me today,” she starts.  
  
Fugaku grunts a noncommittal noise.  
  
Mikoto rolls her eyes. “Dear, it’s about Sasuke. He-”  
  
“Maaaamaaaaaa!” a thin voice shrieks.  
  
“-is awake apparently,” Fugaku finishes for her.  
  
Mikoto sighs, rising to her feet. “He tends to do that.”  
  
“Wake up in the middle of the night?”  
  
“Mmm, yes, well. He has nightmares, or he gets too hot or too cold, or he wants his diaper changed. All kinds of things, really.”  
  
Fugaku pinches his brows. “Is that normal? Surely Itachi wasn’t so bad.”  
  
“It’s perfectly natural toddler behavior,” Mikoto huffs. “And Itachi was worse, since someone decided it would be a good idea to have him witness war. The boy had nightmares for months.”  
  
Fugaku has the decency to look sheepish. “I… have no recollection of this.”  
  
“You wouldn’t. You weren’t here for most of it.”  
  
“Maaaaamaaaaaaa!”  
  
With a sharp turn on her heel, Mikoto makes her way to Sasuke. His bedroom is on the lower floor, next to the kitchen and living room. It’s easier for Mikoto to keep an eye on him that way. She is pleasantly surprised to find out that he’s calling from the bathroom.  
  
“Mama!” he greets her, sitting on his special baby toilet. “I did a poop!”  
  
Mikoto snickers and squats down. “You did? All by yourself?”  
  
“Yeah!” He beams at her, doing a weird wiggle dance.   
  
“And you got here all by yourself too?” Mikoto asks, running a little washcloth under the bathtub spigot.  
  
“An’ I didn’t run into aaaaaany walls.”  
  
“Oh, good job, Sasuke-chan!” Reaching down, Mikoto moves to wipe down his butt, before pausing. “Is something the matter, sweetheart? What are you looking at?”  
  
At first, Sasuke doesn’t say anything, just frowns a little, his brow pinched. Mikoto quietly marvels at how similar his expression is to Fugaku’s. There’s something to be said about nurture, she supposes.   
  
“Mama,” Sasuke says, tugging at her sleeve, veins bulging around his active Byakugan. “There’s someone with Nii-san.”  
  
Mikoto squeezes the washcloth tighter. Water drips on the tiles, the sound echoing. Sasuke shifts in her arms, a tiny hand curling around her bicep.   
  
“Mama?” he asks.  
  
“Mmm, let’s get you cleaned up, ne Sasuke-chan?” Mikoto says, pasting on a smile.  
  
Sasuke nods, quiet. He’s focused on something. Above them and a little to the left - Itachi’s room, Mikoto’s sure of it. She wipes him down and pulls up his pants before picking him up and walking into the hall. His Byakugan remains active the whole time.  
  
Entering the kitchen, Sasuke tilts his head. Mikoto knows this to mean his attention has shifted elsewhere. A smile bursts on his face.  
  
“Papa! I did a poop!” Sasuke announces.  
  
Fugaku blinks and looks up at them. “... Good? Job?”  
  
“Be proud, dear.” Mikoto sets Sasuke down on a chair, then signals to Fugaku. Danger. “He did it all by himself.”  
  
Fugaku sits up. “Is that so? Well, that’s… something.”  
  
Mikoto signs “intruder” and “above” and “comrade trapped”. Fugaku nods.  
  
“Sasuke-chan,” Mikoto hums, running a hand through her son’s hair. “Can you be a good boy for Mama and wait right here?”  
  
Sasuke frowns again. “Mmmm… but why?”  
  
Mikoto plants a kiss on his brow, murmuring softly, “Don’t leave the kitchen.”  
  
Fugaku stands as Mikoto pulls away from Sasuke. They head across the entryway and silently climb the stairs. Approaching Itachi’s door, they hear nothing, not even a whisper. A quick investigation yields a suppression seal hastily inked on the door. Mikoto and Fugaku share a look. She takes point, gently turning the doorknob.   
  
“...say goodbye?” slips out from the small opening. Mikoto palms a kunai and activates her Sharingan, peering inside. She recognizes Itachi’s chakra, a usually calm and inert presence now agitated somewhat, recoiling and spiking. The cause is apparent. She felt it after breaking the seal - the second chakra presence.  
  
It’s huge. That’s the first thing Mikoto notices. It’s heavy and suffocating, with the consistency of spoiled milk. It’s also familiar.   
  
“Orochimaru,” Fugaku breathes out from behind her. He reaches over and pushes the door wide open.  
  
Mikoto presses her lips together and steps inside. Fugaku follows. Their elbows bump. She holds her kunai tighter.   
  
Itachi stands a few feet from the door, right beside his bed. He’s still in his sleeping clothes, hair loose and unkempt. She can see less of Orochimaru, the furthest from her. He’s tucked into a corner, just a step from the moonlight streaming through the window. Next to an exterior wall, she notes.  
  
“Uchiha-san,” Orochimaru inclines his head, his hands stuffed into his sleeves.  
  
He doesn’t even look surprised. It’s to be expected from the Sannin. He must have some sort of warning seal configured somewhere. It disturbs her to know how rigged her home is. When this is all over, she is going to demand Kushina sweep the whole house, every tile and floorboard.  
  
“To what do we owe this pleasure,” Mikoto greets, sounding not pleased at all.  
  
“Father, Mother…” Itachi murmurs, looking at them. Something like a smile tugs at his mouth.  
  
Mikoto nods at him, keeping her expression blank. She turns to Orochimaru and lifts a single brow, awaiting his response.  
  
A lesser man would cower. Many lesser men have done so in her general vicinity. But Orochimaru has earned his title and his rank. He laughs at her. The breathy, simmering sound never fails to send shivers down her spine.  
  
“I was simply informing your son about a mission. Very urgent, you see. From the Hokage himself.” Orochimaru bows, arrogance written in every line of his form. “I do apologize for the intrusion.”  
  
“From the Hokage,” Fugaku repeats.  
  
Without looking, Mikoto knows Fugaku has activated his own Sharingan. They must be a sight, two grown Uchiha, half-lit by moonlight, with their red eyes peering from the shadows. If Orochimaru is intimidated, he hides it well.   
  
“I thought to be discreet. I hadn’t wished to wake you. Time is of the essence, and I can’t afford any delays.”  
  
“Saying goodbye would only take a moment,” Itachi speaks up then.  
  
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Fugaku says with thunderous force. “I’ve just met with Hokage-sama. Surely if he had any missions for Itachi, I would’ve been informed.”  
  
“Minato-kun isn’t obligated to tell you everything. Come now, this is common sense.”  
  
“Orochimaru… sama,” Mikoto says, emphasizing the pause before the honorific. “You aren’t listening. Itachi isn’t going anywhere. This is final. If the Hokage requires him, then we demand official documentation.”  
  
“Itachi is no longer a child, by our laws. You can’t restrict him from doing whatever he pleases. Isn’t that right, Itachi-kun?”  
  
Itachi takes a step back, moving closer to Mikoto. He says, “The mission parameters weren’t clear. I’d like official documentation before accepting. I have that right.”  
  
A second passes, then two, then twelve. No one speaks. No one moves. Mikoto barely dares to breathe. Orochimaru’s chakra shifts and curves and twists before falling deathly still. It’s the only warning they receive.  
  
Several things happen at once. Orochimaru flings out his hands and several shuriken sail through the air. The number increases mid-flight. A plume of smoke bursts and fills the room. Slender, slithering shapes emerge from the shadows, striking at their backs.   
  
Unlike the other infamous doujutsu, the Sharingan can be blinded. Mikoto tucks her face into the crook of her elbow and squeezes her eyes shut. She dives for Itachi, wrapping an arm around him. Scales slide against her scalp, right before she and Itachi crash to the floor.   
  
There’s a sharp yell, and the wet sound of punctured flesh. Mikoto squints through the smoke, barely making out two silhouettes intimately tangled. Something fast and heavy swishes above her. The tail, she realizes. Grab it, her brain urges, with a voice eerily like Kushina’s. Letting go of Itachi, she rises to a crouch, listening for the telltale whoosh.  
  
Grunts. Fabric shifting. Steel skittering against wood. The air shifts minutely. Now!   
  
Mikoto holds out her palms and catches the thick muscle of a snake’s tail. It knocks out her breath, but she manages to hold on. Itachi shifts at her side, murmuring softly. His chakra flexes. The snake catches on fire.   
  
An echoing hiss is followed by a grown man’s guttural shout. Mikoto hears the squish of metal - a kunai - piercing the scaly hide. The snake shudders violently before going limp. She lets it drop from her hands.  
  
“Fugaku,” she wheezes out.  
  
A hollow thud answers her.  
  
The smoke starts to thin, spilling out the window. Mikoto blinks, carefully looking around. She finds the snake’s head - maw still stretched wide - completely severed from its smoldering body. Her husband lies collapsed just a few steps away, red blotting his yukata. Orochimaru is nowhere to be found.  
  
She looks between the open window and the open wound on Fugaku’s shoulder. Her hands clench, nails digging into the soft meat of her palms. She sits up and snatches a sheet off the bed.   
  
“Take this and press it against his injury,” Mikoto barks out, pushing the sheet into Itachi’s hands.  
  
Itachi remains silent, staring at Fugaku. His inaction sparks a fury Mikoto rarely allows herself to feel. She takes Itachi by the shoulders and gives him a firm shake.   
  
“Itachi, listen to me!” she says. “I’m going to chase after Orochimaru. You need to stay here and keep your father alive. Do you understand?”  
  
A flicker of something crosses Itachi’s face. He nods mutely at her. He takes the sheet, bundling the fabric into a tight ball. He crawls over to Fugaku.  
  
Satisfied, Mikoto turns to the window. She opens it wider, letting the smoke spill out faster. That should catch someone’s attention. Breathing in the clean, evening air, she scans the backyard with her Sharingan. She spots a trail of flattened grass and broken twigs. Lunging out, she briefly despairs her lack of proper footwear. It won’t be easy chasing after Orochimaru in her house slippers. But she can’t waste time changing shoes. She ignores the discomfort, pushing her legs to move faster.  
  
Focused on her pursuit, Mikoto doesn’t see the small shadow rushing outside from the lower floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being dragged out of deep sleep is a sublime kind of torture, so Hizashi allows himself a few brief seconds of pained palpitations and shaky breaths before he ignores a headache and accepts his cousin’s efforts to wake him. He frowns at her, still half-asleep, then activates his Byakugan. And jumps to his feet. Over in the Uchiha household, Uchiha Itachi crouches over Fugaku’s body as his father’s blood pools on his bedroom floor. He notes that his cousin is holding the younger Uchiha boy - asleep, but breathing unassisted, heart beating and chakra flowing normally - and reaches for the crash kit bedside his dresser.   
> [Read More](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11365314/chapters/25441608)


	2. Hold Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uchiha Fugaku is not the father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Sometimes, Hiashi envies his brother’s frenetic schedule. If nothing else, Hizashi never has trouble dropping onto his futon and sleeping like the dead. He’s the only ninja Hiashi knows who needs an alarm to wake up in the morning. Meanwhile, Hiashi tosses and turns so much that his wife often kicks him out of their bed. Hizashi could put him to sleep, but it would be an unnatural sleep that leaves him half-dead and vulnerable to assassination attempts, so Hiashi only resorts to his brother’s medical jutsu as a last, last option. He sighs, gets out of bed and puts on a pair of comfortable sandals, and heads for the backyard.  
  
At least it’s an evening with a cool breeze and a bright moon hanging low in the sky. His eyes hurt, not because he’s had to sustain the Byakugan for a significant time, but because he’d spent the better part of the day poring over dull watch schedules for the handful of Hyuuga sentries remaining in the village aside from the medics. They’re slipping, passing out way earlier than expected during their shifts at the sentry towers. He supposes there’s not much he can expect from shinobi between thirteen and sixteen years of age, but Hiashi had hoped that they would grow stronger just by having to spend so long with their Byakugan active. It seems like things are going in the opposite direction. In a few hours, Hiashi will have to meet with the Hokage and explain that they would either have to pull medics from the hospital, or widen the intervals without sentries on duty.  
  
Hiashi can only hope that Kumo is in a similar bind, and that their delegation will progress the temporary armistice into a more stable détente.  
  
A cool breeze rustles the tree branches in his backyard, soothing the ache around his head. He hears the soft sound of hurried steps followed by the dull thunk of a body hitting the wooden fence separating the Hyuuga property from their Uchiha neighbors. There’s a muffled whimper before the fence starts to rattle, something small hitting it repeatedly. More than a little confused, he activates his Byakugan and looks through the fence to find Uchiha Sasuke on the other side.  
  
Hiashi thinks that he must be mistaking the boy for someone else because the boy has an active Byakugan. But he’s not _that_ tired. The revelation freezes him on the spot, so he doesn’t scan outward until he registers that the boy is yelling that “Papa needs help! Papa needs help!” Then the boy starts to collapse from chakra exhaustion, and Hiashi internally curses before leaping over the fence, grabbing the boy just as he falls. He looks toward the Uchiha household and nearly drops the child that he had presumed was Uchiha Fugaku’s.  
  
There’s smoke pouring out from the house. He finds Uchiha Fugaku in his other son’s room, collapsed in what appears to be a pool of his own blood. Uchiha Itachi kneels over him, frantically pressing a wadded-up bedsheet to a deep wound on his left shoulder. Hiashi returns to his own house and rings a bell for a servant as he reaches for the tanto he keeps by the door.  
  
“Rouse my brother,” he tells the old Branch cousin who appears from the small room behind the kitchen. “And tell him that he’s needed urgently at the Uchiha household.”  
  
“And the child?” asks his cousin, Byakugan active, most likely focused on their neighbors.  
  
“He’s fine,” says Hiashi, passing the boy over to his cousin. “Just get Hizashi.”

* * *

 

Mikoto has no need for false humility; she’s a great ninja. But she also has no need for unwarranted pride; she is no match for a Sannin. She pursues Orochimaru’s fleeing form anyway, flitting from tree to tree, knocking down the projectile snakes he launches after her with shuriken, mindful of their poisonous fangs. One as big as the one that got Fugaku is agile enough to dodge one of her shuriken, and she has to slow down to focus and launch a set of three in a studied pattern, then a fourth one to the spot where the snake will have to dodge.  
  
Except snakes don’t move like humans, so the fourth shuriken ends up lodged against a tree trunk, and Mikoto wastes a few more precious seconds flickering close enough to lodge a kunai through its neck. Acrid spittle flies from the snake’s mouth, staining her chest. Mikoto pushes harder on the hilt of the kunai, until the edge peeks out from the inside of the snake’s throat. She adds more force, bisecting the thing’s mandible and kicking it to the side. Her slippers slide against grass, and she has to spend a lick of extra chakra to prevent an embarrassing stumble. For a second, the signature of Orochimaru’s viscous chakra is gone.  
  
“Uchiha-san, there’s no need for this foolishness.”  
  
Mikoto pivots, aiming a set of shuriken at the area where Orochimaru’s voice is coming from, Sharingan spinning. She jumps back, eager to put as much distance between them as possible without actually losing him. If she can just keep the bastard occupied until reinforcements arrive, she might actually survive this.  
  
“What do you want with my son?” she demands, trying and failing to ensnare Orochimaru in a genjutsu. There’s a coat of slimy chakra protecting the man’s senses. She’s not good enough to pierce through them, even with the Sharingan. Genjutsu won't help her.  
  
“I noticed his talents and decided to honor the boy with my tutelage,” says Orochimaru, lifting his chin haughtily. Moonlight seems to glisten off his pale jaw. “You should be proud of him.”  
  
And earlier, Orochimaru had babbled about some secret mission from the Hokage. “I am proud of him.” _Keep him talking. Keep him talking as long as possible._ “He’s very talented and well-behaved.”  
  
“Yes, like a beautiful caged bird who doesn’t even know he’s in a cage,” says Orochimaru.  
  
So the fucker thinks he’s rescuing Itachi. The manic hint in his eyes is not just Mikoto’s imagination, then; Orochimaru of the Sannin has gone mad. Whether she can use that to her advantage or not remains to be seen.  
  
“Itachi’s never mentioned you.” It’s the wrong thing to say.  
  
Mikoto knows it even before Orochimaru lets out a short hiss, and her muscles tense a second before Orochimaru unhinges his jaw. A thick tongue protrudes out of Orochimaru’s mouth, launching itself at Mikoto faster than most kunai. She ducks, raising an arm to throw a shuriken, but the tongue wraps itself around her elbow, squeezing until her bones hurt. Suppressing a shudder at the cold chill of the saliva coating her skin, Mikoto goes lax and lets the thing drag her towards Orochimaru. She has a slip of an instant, and then she’ll be dead.  
  
Orochimaru’s eyes don’t look human anymore, and Mikoto knows it’s not a genjutsu because her Sharingan would see through it. They are the slits of snake-eyes, yellow-black and unfeeling of anything but bloodlust. But they’re calming because she knows that whatever else Orochimaru might be, he’s human. Mikoto’s fighting a snake clone. She can afford a measure of recklessness.  
  
Leaving her right side open, Mikoto rams the kunai between the clone’s eyes. After cracking through skin, it goes through without resistance, as though the thing does not have a skull. Its skin bubbles, and then it all starts melting down like hot clay with a hint of greenish oil. Mikoto grunts as the acrid stink hits her nose again, making her eyes water. The slimy tongue wrapped around her elbow starts melting, and she slices her kunai through it. Her skin burns wherever the tongue touched her. She fears that Orochimaru has outwitted her, left her behind with a clone and doubled back to finish Fugaku off and get at Itachi.

It paralyzes her just for an instant, which is long enough for Orochimaru’s next pet to slither through the trees and launch a stream of acidic spittle in her direction. Mikoto ducks, rolls on the grass, her Sharingan almost disoriented by the beast’s sleek twisting. Its body is as wide as the trunk of an ancient tree, covered in verdant scales that glimmer in the moonlight. Neon-red eyes fix on her face. She launches a set of shuriken as a diversion, then starts the seals for a Fireball Jutsu, forcing herself to keep moving for cover.  
  
Mikoto engulfs the beast with heat and fire. It shrieks, but slithers away, rattling tail beating at the flames and extinguishing them.  
  
“How disappointing.” Orochimaru appears atop the snake’s head, dark hair billowing in the wind. Normally, Mikoto likes long hair on a man, but Orochimaru’s looks like it’s alive and might shove itself into her mouth and nose and choke her at any moment. “I’d hoped for Itachi’s strength to be a matter of breeding, but you’re proving quite mundane, Uchiha-san.”  
  
The insult barely ruffles her. Every second Orochimaru is there, mocking her, is another second he’s not with Itachi.  
  
“If you wanted to spend time with him, you could have just come and spoken to us about it, Orochimaru-sama.” Flatter him, make him think his advances are welcomed; anything to keep him talking longer.  
  
“Don’t think you can trick me with such a ploy, you fool,” spits Orochimaru. “This village taught its children to scurry away from me before you were born.”  
  
What’s Mikoto supposed to say to that? _No, seriously, come diddle my kid._ Only with the Sharingan and its thick genjutsu on her side can she muster anything resembling seductive skills.  
  
“That’s _enough_.”  
  
Mikoto blinks, trying to hide how much Hokage-sama’s voice surprised her. She had been focused entirely on Orochimaru, a mistake she would not have survived back on the field, years before she retired to be a clan head’s wife. Her arm throbs (maybe it’s broken) and her breath suddenly turns into gasps, as if the arrival of reinforcements has drained her resolve.    
  
“Minato-kun.” Orochimaru’s teeth are not filed to shark-thin points, but they should be. “Who was inconsiderate enough to drag you out of bed so late?”  
  
Mikoto doesn’t take her eyes off Orochimaru to see how Hokage-sama might react to those words, but her gaze does flit to the left when another ninja lands on a tree branch a few yards away from her. Hyuuga Hiashi, clad in pyjama pants and a loosely-tied yukata.  
  
“Fugaku’s been injured,” she says loudly, her Sharingan still fixed on Orochimaru.  
  
“Now you care for him,” sneers Hiashi. “Not when you were cavorting with one of my clansmen.”  
  
That barb might have meant something an hour ago. As it stands, Mikoto doesn't waste the energy for a response.  
  
“Hizashi-sensei is seeing to him,” says Hokage-sama, as the snake hisses, its tail curling on the burnt grass. “Orochimaru, what are you _doing_?”  
  
“I’m breaking free of the shameful shackles this village - this _world_ \- has placed on me!” The snake hisses at Orochimaru’s glee, raising him higher in the night’s sky.  
  
“What? By creeping on an eight-year-old?” Hokage-sama sighs. “I’d hoped those rumors were exaggerated. One of the great Sannin, going after _children_? That’s not just betrayal; that’s a disease.”  
  
“Ah, yes,” says Orochimaru. The snake, taller than a two-storey building, spits acid wildly. Mikoto evades stray droplets, attention split between Orochimaru and Hiashi. “Sainted Konoha won't let them choose what to do with their bodies, unless they choose to sacrifice it for this village. I give children freedom and meaning, especially the orphans rotting away in this world, forgotten because no one cares for them.”  
  
“Itachi is no orphan, Snake Sage,” says Mikoto. “Spare us your desperate justifications.”  
  
“Society’s chains will choke him, just like they tried to choke me,” says Orochimaru. “And if they don’t, I would immortalize him and his powers in my scientific discoveries.”  
  
“He sounds high,” says Hiashi, and though Mikoto doesn’t spare a look his way, she knows he rolled his eyes.  
  
“He ran this way, I assume,” says Hokage-sama, flickering closer to Mikoto, who nods quickly. “Anything in particular around here, Hiashi?”  
  
“No,” says Hiashi. “And this forest boundary is quite close to the Hyuuga and Uchiha compounds. We would know.”  
  
“That large snake is resistant to fire,” Mikoto tells them. “Spits acid, and moves extremely quickly. I probably couldn’t dodge it without my Sharingan active.”  
  
“Minato-kun, you’re famous for your commitment to diplomacy,” says Orochimaru, as the snake peers down, bringing him closer to them. “Where are the appeals to my morals and loyalty?”  
  
“Even I have my limits,” says Hokage-sama, a three-forked kunai slipping from his sleeve. Mikoto doesn’t recognize the seal attached to it. “And I can always try and talk sense to you when you’re behind bars, covered in seals from head to toe.”  
  
Orochimaru’s face splits into a wide grin that doesn’t quite manage to hide his grimace. His chakra flares from oily dark green to a pulsing magenta. She feels Hiashi bracing himself beside her, and indulges some petty pride that she remains as impassive and still as Minato while Orochimaru floods the forest with his accursed snakes.

* * *

 

Two hours, by her count. They fought the snakes for two hours. Most were strange, white creatures. They didn’t bleed, but melted when struck, softening into unidentifiable goo. Artificially-made, Hokage-sama theorized. He held one up in his hands, still alive and spitting at him. They weren’t venomous, but they were numerous. They did their job well, distracting them and keeping them away from Orochimaru as he disappeared into the ground. By the time all the snakes were taken care of, not a trace of his chakra signature was left. Hiashi found five trails going in wildly different directions. It would take time to ascertain which one was real.  
  
Hokage-sama called it a night. He dismissed Mikoto and Hiashi, announcing that he would head for the hospital.  
  
“I have a possible lead there I’d like to pursue,” he told them, before nodding at Mikoto. “You should get your arm seen to. And I believe your husband’s already there, if you’d like to check on him.”  
  
Hiashi snorted at this. “Husband? Uchiha-san here would make a liar for any given definition of the word.”  
  
Mikoto ignored him and thanked Hokage-sama. She launched herself into the air and followed him to the hospital, as suggested. She didn’t expect Hiashi to tag along.  
  
Now, here they are, crowding around Fugaku’s bed. Her husband seems to have shrunken while she fought Orochimaru, or maybe anyone would look small when surrounded by seals so complicated that they made Mikoto’s eyes water. His chest rises as falls with each breath, a little too fast for Mikoto’s liking. A monitor beeps a repetitive message that she can't decipher. Blood and fluids drip into several catheters piercing his arms.

  
Mikoto was seen to by a nurse. Her arm is in a much less sorry state. She wishes to say the same of her present circumstances. Hiashi stands before her, looming or attempting to loom. He isn’t that much taller than her, honestly. Hizashi is off to the side, the attending medic for her husband, because of course he is. That’s just how this night is turning out, apparently - one grease fire after another.  
  
“What are you still doing here, Hyuuga-san?” she asks.  
  
“Your youngest - Sasuke, I believe his name was,” Hiashi says, crossing his arms. “He possesses the Byakugan.”  
  
Mikoto spies Hizashi staring more intently at his charts. She throws her shoulders back and lifts her chin. “What of it?”  
  
“Isn’t there something you’d like to share with the class?” he asks, with the dryness of Suna’s summer winds.  
  
“Haven’t we discussed this enough?”  
  
“What discussion? We were fighting for our lives! Snakes were involved!”  
  
“Which you were of great help with,” Mikoto rolls her eyes.  
  
“There’s no discussion to be had!” Hiashi slams a fist on the nearby wall. “I demand answers.”  
  
“And you assume I’ll just hand the answers over to you? In a gilded bento maybe? With animal-shaped onigiri?” Mikoto snaps back. “What authority do you have to be demanding anything from me?”  
  
“Your son has the Byakugan!”  
  
“We’ve established that. What else do you need to know? It’s pretty self-evident. As you said, I was off cavorting with your clansmen.”  
  
Hizashi clears his throat, fiddling with the heart rate monitor. “The surgery went well. I expect a full recovery.”  
  
“He will need to be sealed,” Hiashi says, talking over his brother.  
  
Mikoto freezes. Out the corner of her eye, she sees all the nervous energy vanish from Hizashi. He lowers his hands, and very carefully, doesn’t look at anyone in the room - not even at Fugaku. Especially not at Fugaku.  
  
Mikoto breathes in through her teeth. Then, without another word, she walks past Hiashi and out of the room. She slams the door shut behind her, slams it good and hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Sasuke was born, their parents had had a frightful fight. Itachi had not understood why at the time, and adults had paid even less attention to him then. They had stayed with Grandmother Rakshasha for a few weeks, near the edge of the compound, where their poorer family members who could not afford reinforced and weatherized houses lived.  
> [Read Itachi's Story Here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11279763/chapters/25228896)


	3. Don't Hurt Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikoto takes no prisoners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

“Mitarashi-san.”

Over the last year, five jounin have caught a mysterious “illness” that not even the best Hyuuga medics can handle. Mitarashi Anko would be the first victim to have survived long enough to be interrogated.  
  
“Hokage-sama,” Mitarashi nods, a grin stretching across her lips. She crosses her ankles, folding her hands behind her head. She lies back with a grace so casual that it can only be forced. “A clandestine visit in the middle of the night? You sure can make a girl feel special.” She winks at him. “Your wife know what you’re up to?”  
  
Minato offers up a smile of his own. It’s a tired thing, worn about the edges like a well-used shirt. “We caught Orochimaru attempting to kidnap Uchiha Itachi.”  
  
Anko doesn’t react, which is telling. Her grin appears frozen on her face. Minato notes the stiffness of her limbs, the tension in her shoulders and the length of her spine. He continues to smile. Jiraiya-sensei always despaired of his soft-seeming appearance. But it has its uses. Namely, people never quite know how to react when someone smiles so gently at them while speaking of grave and solemn things. Minato uses their puzzlement against them.  
  
“I… What? Sensei did?” Anko says, blinking once, twice. Her grin starts to crack. “I don’t… Hahaha, you’re joking, right?”  
  
Minato pulls up a chair, his smile vanishing like sugar in water. He doesn’t say anything, allowing his exhaustion to seep into his posture and speak for itself. Anko turns away, hands tightly gripping the hospital sheets.  
  
“Mitarashi-san, we need-”  
  
“I don’t know anything about that,” she replies, cutting him off. “I don’t. I- He told me nothing. Nothing. Okay? He really… I had no idea!”  
  
“I believe you,” Minato says, keeping his voice level. “I wanted to ask about his possible whereabouts. He fled the village. We can’t afford to waste manpower on tracking teams. If you could simply give us some kind of hint...”  
  
Anko doesn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the wall. Silence stretches out between them, thick and viscous. Minato leans back in his seat, watching the girl before him. She’s of slight stature, still in her late teens, all elbows and knees. A poison mistress, if he recalls correctly. She’s prodigious at mixing all sorts of nasty concoctions. Orochimaru took an interest in her because of it. But then, she was also an orphan with big brown eyes, and small for her age. She grew, of course, filling out in all the ways women do. That is the problem, Minato thinks unkindly. She is no longer to Orochimaru’s tastes.  
  
Anko was ten when she graduated from the Academy. It wasn’t unusual at the time. War made many demands, and the village tried to fulfill every single one. She wasn’t Hatake Kakashi, about two years older than her, and already a jounin. But she had promise. No one looked twice when Orochimaru petitioned to mentor her. Maybe someone should have. Minato wonders if Hiruzen knew, or if sentiment had rendered him an unwitting accomplice to Orochimaru’s crimes. Anko is seven years older now. That’s a long time to be under Orochimaru’s care.  
  
“He’s my sensei…” Anko murmurs, so softly Minato almost doesn’t hear it.  
  
“He treated you badly,” Minato says.  
  
Anko whips around and looks him in the eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! He taught me everything I know! I wouldn’t be half the kunoichi I am if I hadn’t been his apprentice!”  
  
“You wouldn’t be in the hospital if you weren’t his apprentice.” Minato holds her gaze, his expression resembling his likeness on the mountain and equally as stony.  
  
“No, you’re right. I would be dead twice over before today,” Anko spits out.  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“The hell I don’t. You’ve been on the frontlines, you know. My sensei’s an esteemed Sannin. He protected me. Even if… Even if…” Anko trails off, lowering her gaze. She studies her hands, callused and scarred in multiple places. “Well… There’s a price to everything.”  
  
Minato purses his lips, a thousand and one words on the tip of his tongue. He counts back from ten and tries to dismiss the existential horror of how easily it could have been him. He was an orphan too. He knows what it was like. Swallowing, he says, “Your silence is paid for, then?”  
  
“I know nothing.”  
  
“He didn’t take you to any hidden bases or labs? Any potential safehouses?”  
  
Anko keeps her mouth shut.  
  
Minato breathes out slowly. “Mitarashi-san. You’re one of my prized tokubetsu jounin. We don’t have a lot of those left, not stationed here in the village. That puts you at a premium. But. If you don’t talk, understand that I will call Yamanaka Akari. She’ll use her advanced jutsus, and she’ll violate the sanctity of your mental space.”  
  
Anko lifts her head and looks at Minato. The flatness of her gaze tells him everything. He can’t threaten her with the violation of anything like it’s something new to her. It’s really, really not. He squeezes his eyes shut.  
  
“Look. You paid for your life. You paid with whatever you had to do for him. I understand. But-”  
  
A sharp knocking interrupts his speech. He ignores it and continues.  
  
“-that doesn’t account for his. His life. You don’t owe him anything-”  
  
Another series of loud knocks, the door almost rattling off its hinges. Minato frowns. Anko raises a brow, peering over his shoulder.  
  
“Mitarashi-san,” he says, more sharply than intended.  
  
She turns back to him, big brown eyes blinking.  
  
“You don’t owe him anything if you already paid. Why must you-”  
  
“Hokage-sama!” a voice calls out from the hall.  
  
Minato jumps to his feet, hands curled into fists. He turns around, yelling out, “I’m trying to run an investigation here!”  
  
The door slams open and an incandescent Mikoto steps into the room. Her nostrils flare, speaking with a tone so thin it could cut at the cellular level. “Then you’re going to deal with a murder in a second.”  
  
Minato blinks at her. “Wha-?”  
  
The sound of rapid footsteps precede the appearance of Hyuuga Hiashi. He’s out of breath, a deep flush spread across his cheeks.  
  
“We aren’t through speaking!” he tells Mikoto, waving an indignant finger at her.  
  
Mikoto doesn’t even deign to look at him, keeping her eyes on Minato.  
  
“This man insists that a cursed seal be placed on my son!”  
“I insist that a cursed seal be placed on that boy!”  
  
Both shout at roughly the same time. Mikoto finally turns to Hiashi, her Sharingan spinning. Hiashi meets her gaze straight on.  
  
“You will not!”  
  
“He has a Byakugan! It is protocol!”  
  
“Wait. Stop.” Minato holds up a hand. “Back up. Repeat what you said, Hyuuga-san.”  
  
Hiashi draws himself up to his full height, a sneer twisting his mouth. “That boy, Uchiha Sasuke, has the Byakugan. As the Hyuuga clan head, it is my right to implant the Caged Bird Seal on him.”  
  
“ _That boy_ ,” Mikoto spits out, “is an Uchiha. You being the Hyuuga clan head means nothing!”  
  
“He has the Byakugan! He is, by blood, a Hyuuga!”  
  
“Not legally, or in any way that matters! And if you so much as touch a hair on his head, you won’t have anymore hands!”  
  
“Is that a threat, Uchiha?!”  
  
“Okay! Enough!” Minato yells. “Get out!”  
  
Mikoto and Hiashi blink at him, suffering a sudden onset of deafness.  
  
“Get out of this room,” Minato says, softer this time. “We’ll discuss this. Yes, now. But not here. We’ll find a more appropriate venue. Is this acceptable?” he asks, but his tone makes it clear it’s not a question.  
  
Mikoto and Hiashi eye each other before nodding. Hiashi spins on his heel and stalks out into the hall. The nurses, intrigued by the commotion, clear a path for him. Mikoto shakes her head, breathing out slowly. She bows at him, in a pointed demonstration of her manners. Then, she takes her leave. Minato rubs the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Long night, huh, boss?” Anko asks from behind him.  
  
It takes all of his self-discipline not to groan aloud.

 

* * *

 

“Summon your ninken. See if Orochimaru left any real tracks.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“If you do find a trail, follow it to the Fire Country border. Not a step farther. Am I clear, Hound?”  
  
Minato studies the ANBU at his side. His right-hand, his once-student, has certainly grown. At nineteen, Kakashi now matches him in height. He has long left behind the awkwardness of his adolescence, and even for a prodigy, he did have his moments. There was that one time…  
  
Minato stifles a smirk. It’s not the time for fond recollections. He can already hear the shouting. Great Sage, he’s a good six feet from the room. The hospital staff has noticed too, lingering as they pass by the door. It’s the scandal of the week; the month, even. No doubt word has hit the streets. Minato sighs. There’s nothing he can do about that. He returns his attention to Kakashi.  
  
“I’d like you on hand when the Kumo envoy comes,” Minato tells him. “They’re due in about a week. That’s plenty of time for you to gather some intelligence. If you find nothing, return to the village immediately and await further instruction.”  
  
“Understood. And what of Mitarashi Anko, Hokage-sama? Shall I summon the police to retrieve her?”  
  
“She’s obstructed an ongoing investigation by refusing to share pertinent intelligence. But I… hesitate to imprison her. At the same time, it’d be foolish to let her run free. Hmmm.” Minato rubs his chin, searching for ideas. “Summon... an officer from T&I.”  
  
“Ah. Are we… ?”  
  
“No. Not quite. Let them consider her a genin assistant. Community service, you could say. She’s to spend all day there, 8am to 8pm, or whenever those guys stop working.”  
  
“I… don’t really know if they do.”  
  
“Perfect. She’s to stay and assist in menial chores, with a supervising officer at hand, of course. She’ll also be moving into the jounin barracks for the meantime. Until the investigation’s through, or until she volunteers some information. Have someone escort her to and from her new… occupation.”  
  
“Constant surveillance. Without actually assigning someone to her. Clever, sensei.”  
  
“I didn’t, in fact, get this job with only my good looks,” Minato smiles.  
  
The shouting has gotten louder now. Minato hears something crash and hopes it’s replaceable. He hasn’t checked the hospital funds recently, and at this point, he’s a little scared to do so.  
  
“I… better do something… about that.” Minato sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”  
  
“Sir.” Kakashi salutes before vanishing in a swirl of leaves.  
  
Minato stares at the wall, trying to organize his thoughts. There’s not much else he can do for the Orochimaru case. But about this - this Uchiha Sasuke mess… Where to even begin… He breathes in deep, counts down from ten, then squares his shoulders and heads for the room.  
  
“Just answer me this, Uchiha! Who’s the father?” greets Minato as he steps inside. He fights down the urge to flee and shuts the door.  
  
The room is more spacious than he expected. Sparsely decorated, it contains only a couch and a coffee table. A painting used to hang on the wall, but a sudden impact appears to have freed it from its hangings. Minato guesses so, at least. There’s also a window at the far end. So he’s got more than one escape route if things really go south. Three if he can squeeze into that vent.  
  
“If you don’t answer, I’ll find out through my clan members. And it won’t be pleasant.”  
  
He flashes through a series of handsigns, placing a privacy seal on the room. Just in time for Mikoto’s answer.  
  
“Hyuuga Hiro.”  
  
Hiashi considers her carefully. “A Branch member?”  
  
“Also dead,” Minato adds.

“And safe from whatever you Hyuuga do with your cursed seals,” Mikoto spits out.  
  
“The Caged Bird Seal-”  
  
“-is an abomination! And you aren’t getting anywhere near my son with your clan monstrosity!”  
  
“How dare you insult my family traditions? Like you Uchiha are so much better! At least everyone knows what we do to our clan members, no matter how unpopular. But you Uchiha have your secrets. Don’t play us for fools! How do we-”  
  
“We’re not here to talk about that,” Minato cuts in. “We’re here about Sasuke. Now. Uchiha Fugaku is recognized as the father, yes? His name’s on the birth certificate?”  
  
“Signed in this very hospital,” Mikoto nods.  
  
“By law, that does make him Sasuke’s father.”  
  
“But surely there must be some allowances made for his Byakugan! He has our family bloodline and our clan law demands he be sealed! Now I know there must be something in Konoha law to accommodate for clan laws! It was in the charter for when this village was started! It’s a founding principle! To help the clans live in harmony!”  
  
“Honestly, this whole mess started because the clans are living in too much harmony,” Minato mumbles under his breath.  
  
He hadn’t meant to be heard, but Mikoto barks out a laugh and Hiashi colors a fascinating shade of puce. Minato coughs, clearing his throat.  
  
“You’d be right, Hyuuga-san. But this is a heretofore unprecedented event. And short of an all-out blood feud, this matter cannot,” Minato glances at Mikoto, “ _will not_ go away with a single discussion. We’ll need to figure out a solution where both parties leave satisfied. This’ll take time.”  
  
Hiashi narrows his eyes. He hasn’t activated his Byakugan, which Minato considers a small victory. He still feels like a specimen under a microscope, possibly some strain of bacteria. But he doesn’t look away from Hiashi, letting the silence stretch out between them.  
  
A knock on the door precedes a muffled voice saying, “Uchiha-san? Are you in here?”  
  
Mikoto considers him and Hiashi, as if not quite trusting them not to pee on the carpet once left alone. Finally, she answers, “Yes?”  
  
“The nurse won’t hear you. I’ve set up a privacy seal,” Minato informs her.  
  
Mikoto glares at him. “Why couldn’t you tell me that first?”  
  
“I thought you noticed me place it!”  
  
“I was preoccupied! For a genius, you can be very stupid!”  
  
If Minato hadn’t been staring so intently, he wouldn’t have caught the slightest upturn in Hiashi’s lips. Oh. At least Mikoto and Hiashi agree on something, even if their mutual enjoyment stems from his blunders. He… He can live with that. Really.  
  
Mikoto walks over to the door, pulling it open. “Yes?”  
  
“Ma’am, your husband has regained consciousness. I was told by Hyuuga-sensei to come fetch you.”  
  
“Thank you, nurse.”  
  
There’s footsteps, and then Mikoto shuts the door with a click. She turns to Minato and Hiashi, arms crossed.  
  
“Gentlemen, are we done here? We all can agree that no more can be said on the matter without… further consultation.”  
  
Hiashi huffs and turns away. “For the time being. But this matter is nowhere near finished. We will resume discussions as soon as possible. Go tend to your…” He pauses, sneering. “...husband.”  
  
“I shall.” Mikoto lifts her chin and looks Minato in the eyes. “Until then, Hokage-sama.” With a sharp bow, Mikoto exits the room.  
  
“I’ll be returning to my home. And bed,” Hiashi says, opening the room’s only window. Without sparing Minato another look, Hiashi launches himself out.  
  
Minato idly notes the sky is still dark. It only took, oh, he wants to say four or so hours, for this shitstorm to thoroughly upend Konoha. And this was only the start. Walking over, Minato shuts the window before executing his Hiraishin technique. He will only get two hours, maybe three, of sleep. But by the gods, he’s earned every second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No luck, boss,” Akino reports, sitting on his haunches.
> 
> “I see,” Kakashi sighs, carding a hand through his hair. “Thanks for your hard work.”
> 
> He bends down and hands Akino a biscuit. The summon happily takes it before poofing away.
> 
> It’s just as he had feared. His hounds found nothing; or rather, they found everything. Scent tracking does the trick in a pinch, but it’s much easier to trick a sensitive nose than it is to trick a Byakugan. Pieces of Orochimaru’s shed skin litter Konoha's forests for miles in every direction. It would have taken the entire Inuzuka clan to follow all the trails in a day.
> 
> [Read More](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11515461/chapters/25843674)


	4. Ring the Alarm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta reading

Morning hits Minato like a ton of bricks, or a ton of toddler hopping onto his bed and pouncing on his chest.

“Papa! Papa!”

Minato blinks an eye open, tries not to grimace at the grin Naruto’s wearing, and sighs heavily.

“I got you before you left for work,” says Naruto. “Now I can tell you all about school.”

“I bet that’ll be fascinating,” says Minato, rubbing his forehead. He feels hungover, though he doesn’t remember the last time he so much as smelled alcohol. Last night had been one of the shittiest nights, if not the shittiest, since he took the mantle of Hokage. Maybe some of it was a nightmare? Orochimaru trying to abduct Uchiha Itachi doesn’t surprise him as much as it should, but Uchiha Sasuke with a Byakugan? That one looks farfetched under the morning sun. “Where’s your mother?”

“I dunno,” says Naruto.

That makes Minato sit up, suddenly alert. Naruto is always glued to Kushina’s side, or rather Kushina is always glued to his, to the point that Minato has had to suppress some irrational jealousy more than once. He can’t think of a single non-catastrophic reason for Naruto to be awake, wandering around the house, “not knowing” where Kushina is.

“You barely slept three hours,” says Kushina herself, toweling her shimmering red hair as she walks out from their bathroom.

Minato sighs again, lying back on the bed and ignoring Naruto’s disappointed look. A jackhammer of a headache is pounding in his forehead.

“Papa-”

“ _-Not now_ ,” says Minato, with more venom than he intended. It’s a testament to how pathetic he must look that Kushina doesn’t reprimand him for being so impatient with his kid.

“Naruto, your papa is feeling a little ill,” says Kushina.

Minato opens his eyes long enough to peer as Kushina picks up Naruto and nuzzles his bright blond hair.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Kushina murmurs a second before a sniffle hits the room like an exploding tag.

Cursing under his breath, Minato lifts the covers and staggers to his feet. He doesn’t bother with empty promises to Naruto and heads to the bathroom, grateful that the village is at least giving him a chance to brush his damned teeth before dropping another steaming turd in his lap. Soapy cherry flavored bubbles are on his tongue before he notices that he’s grabbed Naruto’s toothpaste by mistake, but he doesn’t have time to start the simple task over. He bets Jiraiya-sensei wouldn’t lament his alleged pretty-boy looks now, not with his blue eyes bloodshot and adorned with black bags. Not for the first time, he wonders why he ever wanted to be Hokage so bad.

Down in the kitchen, Naruto peers at him with the futile attempts at subtlety that a child can manage in between rubbing an orange crayon against a blank scroll. Minato considers sitting beside him, mustering up some interest in the childish scribbles, but he has the mess with Orochimaru and Fugaku’s younger kid - not Fugaku’s younger kid, rather - to consider. News travel as fast as his swiftest teleportation jutsu in a ninja village. He expects Danzo and the elders to be on him, demanding some kind of action, before the sun is halfway up the sky.

A heavy knock on his door interrupts his thoughts, and Minato is almost grateful for it. Considering the mood he’s in, he’ll probably make Naruto cry - again - so he goes to the living room without a word, or even a glance at Kushina.

His gratitude dies an untimely death when Uchiha Mikoto, eyes blazing and mouth set in a thin line, whirls into his house the instant he opens the door. Hiashi walks in after her, the picture of dignified nobility despite the frown marring his gaze, and Minato wonders if he shouldn’t have noticed the killing intent rolling off them before opening the door. His headache intensifies before either of them says a word, and seizes all the way down his neck when Kushina enters the living room, Naruto in tow. Had he said anything to his wife last night?

No. He had stumbled home, found Kushina in bed with Naruto cuddled up to her belly, and slid in beside them, trying his best not to wake Naruto, if only to avoid a shower of excitement that he would have to snuff out if his kid woke up and saw him.

“What’s going on?” asks Kushina, eyes narrow.

“The Lady Uchiha here has some interesting views on clan loyalty,” says Hiashi.

“Well, the Lord Hyuuga here retrieved me from Fugaku’s side!”

“Oh, Fugaku will be fine,” dismissed Hiashi. “He’s stable, if not consistently conscious.”

“And how do you know?”

“My brother told me before he passed out.” At the inquiring looks he receives, Hiashi continues. “Oh, he’s not hurt or anything. Simply exhausted. Very exhausted. He crashed from ingesting one too many soldier pills.”

“Is… Is he really okay?” Minato asks.

Hiashi shrugs. “It happens often enough, and he’s still alive.”

Mikoto scowls at him. “I still haven’t seen to my sons, you know. Before you oh-so-kindly whisked me away.”

Hiashi doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but it’s hard to tell, really. “She’s all for familial duty now, but not when she strayed from her marriage bed, apparently.”

“Oh.” The sound leaves Kushina’s mouth as all tension drains from her shoulders, just as Mikoto opens her mouth.

Minato groans, glaring at the ceiling as Mikoto pauses and closes her mouth.

“You knew,” says Hiashi, staring straight ahead.

“ _I_ didn’t,” says Minato, not that it will do any good. Hiashi will think he’s known the entire time, known and done nothing. He runs his fingers through his hair, his gaze landing on Naruto briefly, who startles and looks away.

“Regardless,” says Hiashi, “my clan will not sit idly by while you play favorites. The boy must be surrendered to my clan’s care, and sealed.”

Mikoto’s indrawn breath sounds like a hiss. “My clan will fight you to the last member. We will not allow one of our own to be enslaved.”

“And my clan will not sit idly by while you disregard our customs and endanger our bloodline,” says Hiashi.

Minato looks to Kushina, searching for a lifeline that she cannot give him. Kushina’s hardly the world’s most accomplished diplomat, not that diplomacy could turn Uchiha Sasuke’s eyes black.

“I will not submit my child to the barbarism of the Caged Bird Seal,” continues Mikoto, as though Hiashi had not interrupted her. “The Uchiha have managed to protect the Sharingan without a disgusting enslavement seal for generations. I’m sure a Byakugan won’t cause any additional trouble.”

 _It’s not just the Uchiha that matter_ , Minato doesn’t say, because he kinda wishes they were. Though he won’t say it out loud, he prefers the Uchiha’s arrogance over the Hyuuga’s Caged Bird Seal.

“You say that as though my clan’s traditions mean nothing,” hisses Hiashi. “As though you can spit on our ways as you spat on your marriage vows.”

Naruto hiccups in the way he does when he’s trying to hold back tears, making Kushina’s eyes narrow. She gathers him up in her arms, and he buries his face in her neck.

“It’s not like I forced Hiro to lie with me,” says Mikoto.

“That’s enough,” says Kushina, voice sharp enough that it makes Naruto flinch in her arms. “You do not get to come into my house and squabble like children. Some of us are actually trying to keep this village from collapsing.”

Friendship keeps Mikoto from retorting, but Hiashi has nothing to restrain his thirst for an argument. With Kushina, arguments tend to escalate quickly, or at least they had before Naruto’s birth. Minato takes a step forward, eyes flitting to Mikoto, and Kushina hands him their son. His headache fades slightly, chased away by a rush of adrenaline. The ANBU courier that appears about a foot away from them briefly cuts through the tension, and Hiashi’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

“Hokage-sama,” says the ANBU, bowing slightly. If she notices who is in his house, or the tension in his living room, she’s too professional to mention it. “The Kumo delegation has arrived at the Fire Country border.”

Or she can’t spare the energy to tiptoe around the latest round of Uchiha-Hyuuga drama.

“But they aren’t due for another week.”

“They are eager to start the talks. An ANBU squad has been assigned to escort them. They shall reach the village by mid-day.”

“Shit,” says Minato. Naruto’s little fists tense against his chest, reminding Minato that he’s holding his son. He passes the boy back to Kushina as he takes a short breath and squares his shoulders. “This argument just got postponed.”

“You cannot-”

“-Didn’t you hear?” interrupts Minato, fixing a flat look on Hiashi. “Do you really expect me to tolerate a clan feud while Kumo breathes down Konoha’s neck?”

“Don’t assume you can intimidate me so easily,” says Hiashi, pale eyes almost glowing. “Konoha enjoys my clan’s services at a price, and one much higher than a single child.”

Mikoto’s lip curls, but she has the good sense to remain silent.

“Don’t you assume you can intimidate us so easily,” says Kushina. “The Hyuuga won’t give up Konoha’s protection over, whaddya say? Oh right. Over a single child.”

“Enough!” Minato stares at Hiashi, forcing himself not to glare. “Kumo’s always been after your clan’s bloodline. We both know that. It’s in your best interests not to push this right now; not while Sasuke is literally living next to your house.”

“He won’t ever be sealed,” insists Mikoto.

“I said we will continue this discussion after the Kumo delegation is gone,” says Minato.

He pulls out a comm scroll, a handy invention by Kushina. It uses seals to send written communication between synced scrolls. He writes a quick, coded message for Kakashi, ordering him back to the village and continuing his investigation from within the walls. He suggests speaking to Uchiha Itachi. Finishing his missive, Minato nods at Kushina, certain that she can manage Mikoto and Hiashi, and departs with the ANBU courier in tow.

* * *

After the mess-than-satisfying meeting with the Uzumakis, Hiashi returns home to find his brother unconscious in his nephew’s room. Hizashi is trying to work himself to death. It’s a habit that Hiashi can’t cajole, beat, or bribe out of him. Hiashi had hoped that Neji’s birth would cure him of it, and for a while it had, but for the last few months the old habit had reared its ugly head like one of those diseases that lies dormant for years and flares up at random.

“He was reading me a story and then just fell over,” Neji says as he drags Hiashi to his room. “I can’t wake him up.”

Hiashi sighs and pats Neji’s head, unable to muster the wherewithal for an empty platitude. He finds Hizashi seated on the floor, head nestled under the window in Neji’s room. A book lies open beside him, and the cartoon weasel on the page gloats that it stole a wolf’s kill. Hiashi would leave his brother there to wake with a sore neck, but what example would that set for Neji?

“He’s fine,” says Hiashi, as he strides over to his brother. “Just took too many soldier pills at work.”

“Dad says he has to push himself because lots of medics are out on the frontlines,” says Neji, hovering close as Hiashi hauls Hizashi over his shoulder.

“That’s part of it.” Other medics don’t do this to themselves, if only because they’re trained to keep functional for the sake of the team they’re supporting.

Hizashi’s room is on the other side of the house, near the back and close to the kitchen, where a servant would sleep. That’s more of the silent feud between his brother and mother - Hiashi would plant Hizashi in a larger guest room, or just let him move out on his own (Hizashi certainly pulls in enough money as a jounin medic to afford his own house), but their mother frets about what it would look like if Hiashi couldn’t inspire loyalty in his own widowed twin. And she’s fond of little Neji, despite the walls she puts up around herself. The world has taught Honoka not to be open about her affections.

“Hold his hair,” Hiashi tells Neji, before laying his brother down on his bed none-too-gently. He huffs, then lifts Hizashi’s legs onto the bed as Neji arranges his hair on the pillow. The Caged Bird Seal is a bright, neon contrast against Hizashi’s pale skin. Neji brushes his father’s bangs away from his forehead, caressing the seal without a thought.

“Do you think the war will be over soon?” asks Neji.

“I don’t know,” admits Hiashi. He crouches until he’s eye-level with Neji, and tries to copy the placid smile Hizashi wears at clan gatherings. He can’t quite manage it, but maybe that’s for the best. Hizashi’s gentle smiles are a lie. “But whatever happens, you’ll have an army protecting you.”

“What about Dad?”

“Your dad’s a grownup.” Even if he doesn’t act like it sometimes.

A soft knock on Hizashi’s door spares Neji from more of Hiashi’s sad attempts at comfort. Hiashi expects it to be the maid with news that someone from the hospital has come to fetch Hizashi, and he rears up to chase them away. It is the maid, but to tell him that Elder Honoka is requesting an audience.

Suddenly, Hiashi wants to stay in his brother’s room, consoling his nephew. Neji could go fetch that book, find Hinata, and Hiashi could read to them. He can’t bring himself to make the silly voices like Hizashi, but it’s never too late to learn.

“I’ll take care of him,” says Neji, with all the self-assurance only a five year old can have. He even pats Hiashi’s hand. “Go on.”

“You’re a good boy,” says Hiashi, ruffling Neji’s hair.

The Hokage has favored the Uchiha so far, and Hiashi doesn't see that changing anytime soon. Uzumaki, like almost everyone outside the Hyuuga, has nothing but contempt for the Caged Bird Seal. Even if the man did not have such a cozy relationship with the Uchiha clan, he would not subject an innocent boy to what he considers slavery. Hiashi would admire him for his convictions, if only those convictions weren't threatening the stability of his clan.

He walks to his mother’s wing of the house like a man going to a judge the evening before his execution. Honoka has sacrificed much to guarantee his position as head of the Hyuuga clan, and Hiashi doubts that his precarious position can weather Uchiha Sasuke’s existence. He wishes he were a shorter man with every step that takes him closer to Honoka’s studio because shorter limbs would lengthen his quest.

Honoka may be an elder, and she might have asked for him, but Hiashi is still the head of the clan. He slides open the door to Honoka’s studio without announcing himself, as though he considers himself the true ruler of the household. Honoka doesn't take her eyes off her latest project.

She’s been painting a sunrise over the pond behind their home, the one that they share with their Uchiha neighbors. Hiashi is no expert on paintings - sometimes, he laments that he’s not an expert on anything; not like his twin, one of the most gifted medics in the village - but the interplay of lights streaming between the tree branches above the pond entrances him. Every blossom on the tree casts a shadow on the calm surface of the pond, which glistens gold from the sunlight. Hiashi has seen the sun rising over that particular tree and pond hundreds of times, and real life never approaches Honoka’s painting in terms of beauty.

“Mother, this might be your best work.”

“It’s trash,” says Honoka. Anyone else might have snorted, or made some other outward gesture of disgust. “I hope you’ve made more progress than me.”

“Kumo’s delegates are at our doorstep,” says Hiashi. “The Yondaime will not respond well to ultimatums at this time.”

Honoka turns her translucent eyes to him and raises a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow.

“The Seal only protects us because we count on Konoha’s support,” he adds. “It’s in the clan’s best interests to play nice with the Yondaime until the immediate threat of war is behind us.”

At these times, Hiashi wishes his mother would frown, but he suspects she doesn’t want to risk premature wrinkles. Not that it makes sense that Honoka is interested in preserving her perfectly-proportioned visage (she has refused every suitor since her husband’s death), but very few things about Honoka make sense.

“The Yondaime isn't shy about his loyalties, is he?”

“The Uchiha won't see this as a victory,” says Hiashi. “Not until the Yondaime grants them full, undisputed custody will they be satisfied.”

Honoka puts her oils aside. “It’s not the Uchiha’s perception that concerns me.”

“That’s one more thing that sets you apart from the rest of our family.” Hiashi resists the impulse to rub at his scalp in frustration. “The way some of our cousins tell it, our clan’s status depends wholly on the Uchiha’s opinion.”

“It’s the Branch family’s perception that concerns me,” says Honoka.

Hiashi blinks, trying to process the words. Paradoxically, at least if you take into account her pride about the Hyuuga clan, Honoka regards the Branch family much like outsiders do. In short, she sees them as pitiful slaves. Hiashi doesn't examine that idea too often; he is not the most philosophical of men, and he doesn't like to dwell on his family members’ unsavory qualities. He can't quite stop himself some days, though.

Despite her current status as de-facto leader of the Hyuuga elders, Honoka is quite young, and also a bit of an outsider. Her mother was an illegitimate daughter of the Fire daimyo, despised by the man’s wife. The daimyo wanted to protect his daughter, and so had given her a sizable dowry and married her off to a Hyuuga Main family clansman. The somewhat content couple produced one daughter - Honoka - who was then married to Hiashi and Hizashi’s father (there, Hiashi’s train of thought abruptly cuts off - he avoids thinking of his monstrous father as a child avoids thoughts of a dentist appointment).

The point is that Honoka never had close family in the Branch house until Hizashi, and at some point, she’d decided that Hizashi is not worth worrying about.

“Have you considered who the father is?” asks Honoka.

“Ah. . .” Another subject Hiashi has been avoiding. Perhaps avoidance is his area of expertise.

“Unless we posit that the Lady Uchiha raped a Hyuuga clansman, we have a traitor in our midst.”

They have a traitor regardless. A Hyuuga clansman should have reported rape. “Uchiha Mikoto has named a dead man.”

“That is undoubtedly a lie,” says Honoka.

Probably, but not one Hiashi has any interest in challenging. Let a dead man take the blame for this.

“You will be asked to do something unpleasant before this is done,” says Honoka, tired of his silence. “Be ready, and be strong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Mama!”
> 
> “Everything's okay, Sasuke-chan.” She sighs as she gathers Sasuke into her arms and lifts him off the floor.
> 
> “Nii-san is mean!” wails Sasuke, burying his face in her neck.
> 
> “He’s not,” says Mother, but she doesn't look at Itachi.
> 
> Itachi is mean sometimes. Sasuke’s not the only one who says so.
> 
>  
> 
> [Read More](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11279763/chapters/25594785)


	5. Say No to This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kumo is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta reading

Too many trees. It’s an absurd thing to complain about, Darui realizes. They’re in a forest.There’s no such thing as too many trees. But still, the Kumo jounin finds himself feeling just a touch confined.   
  
It makes sense, really. His village clings to the peaks of a mountain range. It’s all craggy rocks and swirling fog, not too pretty in all honesty. But the sky is always right there, in plain sight. Darui can look out his window and see the horizon stretch on for miles. Kumo has none of this tree business, with the branches all weaving together like some kind of net. It’s no wonder he feels the way he does.  
  
And since he’s already complaining, Darui finds Konoha severely lacking in natural defenses. Suna’s got an expansive desert, ready to swallow whole any wandering army. Iwa’s surrounded by mountains, nestled in the deepest valley. Kiri’s entrenched in swamp land, where if the floods don’t kill you, then the malaria will. Kumo’s winding passes threaten a long fall to the bottom or an impending rockslide from above, assuming you don’t die from altitude sickness. But Konoha has none of those things. No, Konoha has trees, and really not much else. How anyone can live here and sleep at night, he can’t even begin to understand.  
  
“Darui,” Samui calls to him, noting his inattention. She’s ridiculously dependable like that.  
  
Darui sees giant, red gates loom ahead of him. They’ve reached Konoha. There’s a small contingent of shinobi waiting for them. They’re all dressed in the standard Konoha uniform except for one. But it isn’t his white robe that catches Darui’s eyes. That blond hair like the sky at sunrise, he’s only heard stories of it. He feels a thrill of fear skate down his spine.  
  
“Welcome,” the infamous Namikaze Minato greets them.  
  
The Butcher, Iwa calls him - killer of thousands in a single breath. Kumo is less fond of nicknames, especially the violent ones. They consider it a concession, an acceptance of superiority. Even if Namikaze Minato had decimated a good portion of their forces, no one will ever hear a Kumo nin call him anything but his name.  
  
“Hokage-sama,” Watanabe-taichou replies with a stiff bow. Darui and Samui follow his lead.   
  
Namikaze inclines his head. “I have heard of your accomplishments, Watanabe-san. We are honored to have Kumo’s finest.”   
  
“Raikage-sama wishes to ensure the best outcome.”  
  
“We are of the same mind.” Namikaze turns to the ANBU responsible for escorting their delegation. “Crow, you and your team are dismissed. We will take over from here.”  
  
Darui studies the ANBU captain, a slight man perhaps a little younger than himself. He can only note his curly, black hair stuck close to his scalp. A common enough trait that it gives away nothing about his identity.  
  
“Hokage-sama,” the ANBU captain salutes before signalling his team. They disappear without a trace.   
  
Darui isn’t C. His sensor skills leave much to be desired. But he’ll shave his head before believing the squad has actually left. It’s a polite fiction, really.  
  
Namikaze smiles at them. “Shall we proceed?”  
  
They are promptly ushered through the gates. Konoha is huge, Darui notes, occupying a larger square footage than Kumo by a great margin. He supposes there is some benefit to not building your settlement on mountain tops. They have a lot more arable land, for one thing. It’s one of the reasons Kumo finally capitulated and agreed to starting the talks.   
  
They were running low on basic necessities like rice and meat. Then, about a month ago, the fighting ground to a ceasefire. Both sides simply ran out of resources - namely chakra and reinforcements. Inuzuka Gaku, field commander of the Konoha troops, approached them with a proposal. It had been about three years since the conflict began, escalating from posturing to skirmishes to outright battle, and neither side had made any progress. They had reached a relentless stalemate. Inuzuka communicated the Hokage’s request for an armistice. After a quick conference with the Raikage, Yotsuki-taichou complied and laid the foundations for future correspondence.  
  
Now here they are, fifty miles behind the border, surrounded on all sides by tentatively non-hostile ninja. Darui observes their growing audience. Most appear to be civilians, openly gawking as his delegation is led through the streets. The shinobi are obviously outnumbered in the crowd. Konoha has presumably sent the majority of its forces to the frontlines. There’s only a skeleton crew left behind. It’s about the same situation with Kumo.  
  
“You have a fine village here, Namikaze-sama,” Watanabe-taichou says.   
  
“Kindly don’t refer to me as Namikaze.”  
  
Watanabe-taichou stiffens. The wince wrinkles the bandages around his right eye. “I meant no offense.”  
  
Namikaze chuckles at this. “Oh, it wasn’t offensive. Simply inaccurate. I go by Uzumaki Minato nowadays.”  
  
“You… married?”   
  
“Yes. Awhile back, in truth.”  
  
“I see. Allow me to congratulate you.”  
  
Darui tunes out them out. He notices a couple of jounin loitering in the periphery. They look mildly interested in the proceedings. But then their friend leaps down from the rooftops, gesturing with excitement. The Kumo envoy gets summarily ignored as the jounin start to converse. Darui spots more clumps of shinobi, leaning in close, murmuring with apparent fervor. It’s not simply that the civilians are more numerous. The marked absence of ninja seems to be caused by some distraction, something of greater interest catching their attention. Darui cannot help but feel just a little bit curious.  
  
They arrive at the Hokage tower and follow Uzumaki née Namikaze up to his office. The rest of their afternoon is spent hashing out the particulars of the détente. Uzumaki wants a mutual decrease of troops along the Hot Water Country border. Watanabe-taichou wants the re-establishment of trade routes north of Fire Country. Uzumaki wants access to a northern port. Watanabe-taichou cites a need for more farmland. On and on, they go.   
  
Darui does nothing but stand there, looking sufficiently smart and tough. It’s the entirety of his contribution to this whole endeavour. He’s doing a good job in that respect. There’s really no way for him to slack off.  But it does mean he is bored beyond belief.   
  
Eventually, after six hours of heavy debate with only a brief break for food, Uzumaki and Watanabe-taichou finally finish up the last of their discussion points. Nothing is quite ironclad, and they both walk away with much to consider. Still, it’s a start. Tomorrow, they’ll go over the particulars and Uzumaki will entrust them with a letter containing Konoha’s specific demands. There will be a follow-up meeting, in Kumo this time, for the drafting of an actual agreement. But that’s later, much later.   
  
As of now, Darui and his team are escorted into a well-kept inn near the village center. He considers the room they’re assigned. Not bad, he thinks. The wallpaper is a sin on the eyes, but there’s worse places to be. Darui can name a very specific mountain pass in the southern half of Frost Country, where the land has been gutted by prolonged fighting. The corpses are still there, impossible to retrieve due to the instability of the area. Their designated room in Konoha is leagues above that, despite the shitty wallpaper.  
  
“I thought it would never end,” he groans, the moment they are left alone. Of course, they’re not truly alone, but the lie is more believable now, with the lack of visible attendants.  
  
“It hasn’t, not yet,” Samui replies, sweeping the room for any particularly invasive seals. “Nothing has been agreed upon.”  
  
“Why must you say that?” Darui runs a hand through his hair.   
  
“Because it’s the truth.”  
  
“We should all rest up. We have another round to go before we can clear out of this place,” Watanabe-taichou tells them, kicking off his sandals and unrolling a futon. “What I’d give for some beer right now.”  
  
“Drinking on the job, taichou?” Darui smirks, raising a brow.  
  
“Oh, fuck off. You lot just stood there while I did the heavy lifting. Goddamn, my throat’s drier than my wife’s-”  
  
“Tea, perhaps,” Samui cuts in. “I’m sure they can bring us up a tray if we ask.”  
  
“I was going to say her steak,” Watanabe-taichou huffs.   
  
Darui and Samui share a look. Darui shakes his head and walks over to the only window, prying it open. Leaning out, he breathes in the evening air, a little more humid than he’s used to. He watches the civilians and shinobi going about their business. Some enter the pubs, laughing and jostling each other. A few finish up whatever errands they have left over. Still, others just wander about, enjoying the pleasant weather. It’s hard to find any reason for the war when Darui sees them like this.  
  
“The tea is here,” Samui announces softly.  
  
Darui waves at her, staying put. He rests his arms on the windowsill, allowing his eyes to slide shut.  
  
“Did you hear what happened?” A voice drifts up from the street. It sounds like a man’s, low and roughened by age or smoking - hard to tell.  
  
Darui thinks back to the clusters of shinobi from earlier that day, how they appeared agitated over something. He keeps his eyes shut, feigning drowsiness as he minutely concentrates chakra into his ears.  
  
“About Orochimaru trying to stick his dick in the Uchiha heir? Yeah, I heard. He fucked off after, didn’t he? Good riddance. I still can’t believe everyone looked the other way for so long.”  
  
“No, man, who cares? Everyone knows Orochimaru’s a diddler. I mean, did you hear about the Uchiha toddler with the Byakugan?”  
  
“What? Are you high again? It’s the Sharingan for the Uchihas, and the Byakugan for the Hyuugas. Basic clan facts.”  
  
“And I’m telling you, man! My girl’s a med-chuunin at the hospital, and she saw the Uchiha kid with the Byakugan. Bright and grey as a rainy morning.”  
  
“No way. No way an Uchiha and a Hyuuga stopped sniping at each other long enough to fuck.”  
  
“Bro, not just any Uchiha - the clan head’s wife. Rumor’s they planned it to steal the Byakugan.”  
  
“That’s crazy! Are they trying to start a blood feud?”  
  
“Hell, maybe. Clans are fucking weird, man.”  
  
Darui waits for the shinobi to walk further away. He counts down from twenty before yawning and rolling out the kinks in his neck. Without looking, he says, “Samui.”  
  
“There is nothing quite like this tea in Kumo,” she replies. She definitely heard them.  
  
“You know, I think I’ll have a cup now,” Watanabe-taichou says, equally aware.  
  
Darui shuffles over to Samui, taking a seat. He accepts his tea. They drink in silence.   
  
Watanabe-taichou goes to bed first, notably not taking off his vest or weapons pack. They all know none of them will actually sleep tonight. Any shinobi worth their salt wouldn’t be able to rest while knee-deep in foreign territory. Still, they attempt to look relaxed, or else Konoha will think they’re up to something. And they aren’t.  
  
Not yet, Darui thinks with great exhaustion. A-sama did order them to make nice with the Hokage. But he doesn’t know what they do now. Once they inform him, Darui can’t even hope that no action will be taken.  
  
Watanabe-taichou will push for it. The recent loss of his right eye led to his discharge from the field. It wasn’t without great honor, seeing as he was injured in the line of duty. But Darui knows it stings him a bit, to be considered less capable than he was before. Watanabe-taichou will propose action, and no doubt insist on taking up the mission himself.   
  
Darui shifts a little on his futon, trying to get comfortable. Samui lies a few feet from him, no doubt thinking the same thing. She’s too still to be believably asleep. They’re going to have a lot of fun tomorrow, pretending to be ignorant. He breathes in deep and wills himself to relax, just a little bit. But it’s no use. The night stretches on for an eternity. He swears it will never end. Then it does.  
  
Morning dawns in the usual fashion. They head over to the Hokage tower, accompanied once again by a guard. The procedure remains the same, but this time around, it only takes four hours to finish. Although, it’s four hours of forever, and it takes all of Darui’s discipline not to yawn. He does zone out, staring blankly ahead of him, his thoughts reduced to an incoherent buzz. If any of those infamous Yamanaka try something on him, they’ll end up hopelessly lost.  
  
After the official business is taken care of, Uzumaki invites them to lunch at some barbeque restaurant. Darui is famished, having to subsist on small game and rations for the last week. The promise of a well-cooked meal is too tantalizing an offer. He might actually cry if Watanabe-taichou declines. Thankfully, he doesn’t, and they promptly find themselves in a private room. A veritable feast is laid out before them. Samui elbows him, and Darui realizes he actually has teared up, just a bit. He discreetly wipes his eyes.  
  
“Kanpai!” Uzumaki cheers, raising his cup.  
  
“Kanpai,” they chorus back, raising their cups.  
  
“May the talks proceed with swiftness and alacrity,” Uzumaki continues.  
  
“Hear, hear,” Watanabe-taichou replies with a big grin. It looks incredibly sincere. Darui commends his acting skills.  
  
It doesn’t escape his notice how secluded their lunch is. They’re tucked away from the other restaurant patrons. They only see the waiter come by, and no one else - no one to possibly spill more village secrets. To be fair, it isn’t really a secret if everyone is talking about it.  
  
“Konoha has a thriving night life,” Uzumaki says with a rueful grin. “I certainly hope it didn’t disturb your rest.”  
  
“Oh, no, no. Thank you for your concern. But the inn had well-insulated walls. We heard nothing to rouse us from sleep,” Watanabe-taichou assures smoothly.  
  
“Is that so? Well, it was quite hot last night. Did you not feel a need to open the window? Let a breeze in?”  
  
“We did…” Watanabe-taichou takes a sip, buying himself time. “We happened to overhear some gossip from your men.”  
  
“Oh? Yes, well. Villages are always so full of gossip. Wouldn’t you agree? Mostly the product of some very bored minds. Usually an exaggeration of events, if not outright fabricated.”

  
“Certainly, certainly.”  
  
Uzumaki suspects they’ve heard something. He’s not sure about the specifics, but he knows they know something. Darui downs the last of his sake and plays the part of a glib subordinate.  
  
“Is it really true that the last of your Sannin has defected?” he blurts out.  
  
Uzumaki narrows his eyes and sets down his cup. Watanabe-taichou splutters, choking on his spit.  
  
“I apologize, Hokage-sama. He didn’t mean to speak out of turn and-”  
  
“It’s quite alright. He isn’t wrong. The information will soon hit the Bingo books. We don’t intend to keep it from the world.” Uzumaki turns and gives Darui the full weight of his gaze. “Orochimaru was caught attempting a heinous crime. We failed to arrest him, and he fled the village. I say this to warn you. The man’s a crafty foe, and you’d best be on the lookout.”  
  
Darui swallows and nods hastily. Those eyes were the last thing over a thousand people saw before they died. He feels sweat trickle down his back.  
  
“We thank you, then,” Watanabe-taichou cuts in. “We will be sure to heed your words.”  
  
Uzumaki smiles, appearing satisfied by their concession. If he believes this is the true extent of their knowledge, Darui doesn’t have a clue. But Uzumaki starts talking about ideal vacation spots and lunch proceeds on a lighter note.  
  
When they return to the office, Uzumaki hands them a sealed scroll, containing his missive to the Raikage. Watanabe-taichou accepts it with a respectful bow. It’s only a little after noon, with plenty of daylight left. He insists on departing immediately.   
  
A squad of ANBU greets them at the gates. It’s not the same squad as before, the way Darui expected. The ANBU captain is a woman with long, purple hair. Such a defining feature renders the mask useless. Darui wonders about the other ANBU captain. He supposes even the elite need breaks. But then, doesn’t he deserve one? And soon? Darui sighs, prompting Samui to give him a look. He waves away her concern.  
  
They escort him and his party to the Fire Country border. It takes them eight hours, traveling at a sedate pace. When they arrive, the sky has long gone dark. The ANBU squad briefly bow before disappearing into the thick forest. Darui and his team are left alone, or they appear to be. Samui takes two fingers and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. He stifles a groan, all too ready for this mission to end.   
  
Watanabe-taichou claps him on the shoulder. They head further into Hot Water Country, about fifteen miles in. Then, they begin wandering about in erratic circles. By their third lap, Samui casts a complicated genjutsu, completely cloaking them from sight, smell, and sound. Once they’re sure no one is tracking them, they head over to a hidden outpost, located in the basement of a small dango shop.  
  
“I’ll have an order of your tri-color dango,” Watanabe-taichou tells the shopkeep. “Give me the party platter with a side of your special sauce.”  
  
“The soy-red bean blend?”   
  
“No, no, no. The brown sugar blend.”  
  
The shopkeep nods and hands over a key. They make their discreet way to the back and unlock the basement doors.  
  
“Wa- Watanabe-san?!” the outpost supervisor yelps. To call him startled would be to call water slightly damp. “What- I thought- But shouldn’t you be in Konoha right now?”  
  
“We were. We’ve finished our business there,” Watanabe-taichou replies. “This outpost has a direct line to the Raikage’s office, correct?”  
  
“Ye- Yes, sir. But it’s a little late. I don’t know if…”  
  
“The sooner I can contact him, the better.”  
  
The outpost supervisor hastily nods, nearly tripping over himself as he leads them to the farthest corner of the room. Tucked away in a carved-out alcove, the phone sits - a clunky thing covered in a fine layer of dust.  
  
“Are you certain this is secure?”  
  
“Sir, most people forget we even exist. It’s the most secure line we have.”  
  
“Very good.”  
  
The outpost supervisor wrings his hands, mustering up his courage. “Can I assume the talks went well?”  
  
“Oh, yes. They did. Most certainly.”   
  
“May I ask why…?”  
  
Watanabe-taichou gifts him with a smile the way a wolf would bear his fangs. “Let’s just say, we came across some interesting gossip.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itachi can't take missions until Orochimaru is either captured or confirmed gone. That’s fine. Mother gives him a mission: protect Sasuke. Mostly, he’s to be a deterrent in case the Hyuuga get impatient in the middle of all the politicking about who should have custody. A tedious mission, but an important one. Sasuke is delighted that Itachi will be staying with him while Father is in the hospital, so much so that he doesn't even ask why Father is in the hospital in the first place. Just once, he asks about “the bad man”, but he doesn’t complain when Itachi doesn't answer.  
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11279763/chapters/25972374)


	6. Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minato is 500% done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Uncle Hiashi and Elder Honoka were arguing yesterday," Neji tells Hizashi, voice hushed. 
> 
> They're seated at the table, eating breakfast. A cousin stopped by to cook them something. Sage knows, Hizashi is barely human in the mornings. He'd be a hazard in the kitchen, and Neji is only four. 
> 
> "It's nothing to do with you," Hizashi yawns, pouring himself another cup of coffee. 
> 
> "I don't want them to be upset," says Neji, taking a sip of his miso soup. 
> 
> "Hm." Hizashi can't pretend he cares one way or the other. 
> 
> It's too damn early for this. Hizashi has just woken up. He had another long shift at the hospital yesterday, and passed out once he got home. He really doesn't have the time for any sort of nonsense. Not that his brother cares. 
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11365314/chapters/26405184)

Mikoto can’t forget her first kill. She didn’t consider herself too young. She still doesn’t. In retrospect, this may be the problem. She is not a fool, and neither is she blind. She doesn’t have her second son’s particular gift, but she doesn’t need even her own Sharingan to see.  
  
Itachi had to buy a bulk order of shuriken and kunai last week. His previous cache lasted fifteen days, over the course of three missions. Iron and steel are not easy to come by. Shinobi only order more weapons as a last resort, taking care to salvage what they can after hunts or spars or training missions. Kunai and shuriken are only left behind in hotly-contested territories, or in people. Her eldest has not gone to the frontlines for battle, only on occasional courier missions where the paths are protected enough. But somehow, he needs more shuriken and kunai. It’s not a hard picture to form.  
  
Mikoto doesn’t consider herself a bad mother. But she remembers all-too-clearly the last time she held Itachi’s hand. His first day at the Academy, over three years ago. His hand fit so neatly in her palm. He hasn’t grown much bigger since.  
  
She can’t help but wonder about the number -  his confirmed kill count. It’s an easy answer to find. She can pull up his file from the registrar. The number should be listed there. But she won’t do it. She prefers not to know. Her boys are well-fed and able-bodied. She doesn’t need to know.  
  
Except, Orochimaru took an interest in Itachi for a reason. Konoha is not wanting for children. They have a robust population. It feels like the genin and chuunin get younger every day. Out of all those other little boys and girls, _her_ boy got chosen. Orochimaru saw something - everything she pretends not to see. If she had spoken to Itachi earlier, if she had taken the time and sat down with him, if she had only realized sooner, then maybe they could have avoided this whole mess.  
  
Fugaku wouldn’t have gotten injured. Itachi wouldn’t have to abstain from missions. And Sasuke wouldn’t have looked for help, asking the worst person conceivable. Now…  
  
The clan has heard all about the Orochimaru ordeal, followed by the Hyuuga uproar. They were quick to pester her all day with their opinions, and their two-cents, and their “Well, if you ask me…” But she hadn’t, in fact, asked anybody anything. Not that they care. It’s liable to drive her crazy.  
  
Fortunately, Mikoto finds refuge in her daily visits to the hospital. Unfortunately, she can only visit in the early morning. It’s the only hour she can spare. Fugaku doesn’t seem to mind, welcoming her company whatever time she drops by. He’s quite impatient to be discharged, and Mikoto can barely temper his mood.  
  
“The medic, Hizashi-sensei, strongly advised against taking missions - combat or otherwise. You require rest, and time.”  
  
“Of course I do. But will my condition improve?”  
  
“He… did not say. He seemed optimistic.”  
  
Fugaku pinches the bridge of his nose. “And what of Itachi? How is he?”  
  
Mikoto purses her lips. “Well enough. Hatake Kakashi did the formal inquiry. He recommended a psych eval.”  
  
Fugaku clutches the sheets in tightly-balled fists. His Sharingan flares to life for one spinning second. “That snake bastard…”  
  
“From what grandmother told me,” Mikoto cuts in, before he can draw his assumptions, “Orochimaru did not lay his hands on Itachi. He simply paid him special attention - greeted him, flattered him. Itachi shied away, but saw no legitimate reason to complain.”  
  
“Your grandmother was here?” Fugaku asks, apprehension coloring his tone.  
  
Rakshasha elicits that sort of reaction from most men, but Fugaku especially. Mikoto smiles, amused in spite of everything.  
  
“The boys weren’t too roughed-up by her visit. Sasuke, at least, slept through it.”  
  
“Then why must Itachi get a psych evaluation?”  
  
His question douses her levity. She clears her throat. “Hatake noticed a few oddities. To be honest, so have I. It may be in his best interests to see a specialist.”  
  
Fugaku considers her carefully. She meets his stare straight-on. He snorts, and moves to tuck his hands into his sleeves before remembering he’s in a hospital gown. He scowls.  
  
“And what of the Hyuuga affair? What does Elder Rakshasha think of that?”  
  
“The Hyuugas were always going to learn about Sasuke. There’s really no way to hide him, especially once he starts attending the Academy.” Mikoto pauses there, smiling ruefully. “...I only wish it hadn’t been so explosive a discovery. Grandmother called me foolish, and said it’s surprising the Hyuugas were ignorant this long.”  
  
“I would be concerned if our neighbors knew earlier.” Fugaku matches her smile. “That would have some disturbing implications about the sanctity of our privacy.”  
  
“We live in a shinobi village, dear. We have no such thing as privacy.”  
  
“Aunt! Uncle!”  
  
Mikoto and Fugaku turn in sync, looking at the door. They hear the sound of rapid footsteps, nurses yelling their complaints, and urgent demands to get out of the way. Then, the door slams open and a haggard Shisui bursts into the room.

 

“When did you get back from the frontlines?” asks Fugaku, glancing at Mikoto.

 

She simply shrugs. She didn’t think it was important to tell him.

  
“Wha-? Tuesday. But that’s not-” Shisui shakes his head. “Just listen, okay? There was a kidnapping attempt!”  
  
“Orochimaru has returned?!” Mikoto asks, immediately on her feet.  
  
“If only,” Shisui replies. “But Itachi wasn’t the target. It was Sasuke. Remember the Kumo envoy?”  
  
“No… But they left two days ago!”  
  
“I saw him myself. It was definitely the Kumo team leader trying to take Sasuke.”  
  
“Oh, for the love of- Leave my sons alone!” Fugaku cries out.  
  
“And what about-” Mikoto starts.  
  
“Don’t worry!” Shisui cuts her off, anticipating the question. “The Kumo nin was caught in the act. Sasuke’s safe.”  
  
“Oh- oh, thank god,” Mikoto breathes out.  
  
“Where is he now? And Itachi?” Fugaku presses. “He was supposed to be watching his brother!”  
  
“Uh, well… Okay. You should know that Hyuuga Hiashi was responsible for rescuing Sasuke. And he’s keeping the kid at his house, for security reasons.”  
  
“That opportunistic bastard!” Mikoto snarls, eyes flashing red.  
  
“Itachi wasn’t about to let his brother go alone, and essentially, he invited himself into the compound,” Shisui continues.  
  
“Good, good,” Fugaku murmurs.  
  
“The gall of that man… I need to speak with Hiashi!” Mikoto tells Shisui. “Is he at home?”  
  
Shisui shakes his head. “No. He ended up killing the Kumo nin, so now he’s meeting with Hokage-sama.”  
  
“Now?” Mikoto echoes.  
  
“Right this second.”  
  
Without another word, she dashes out the door, leaving behind a stunned Shisui and Fugaku. The men share a look.  
  
“Should I go after her, Uncle?” Shisui offers.  
  
Fugaku sighs, leaning back on his pillows. “If you can. I would highly prefer this situation not to escalate any more than it already has.”  
  
Shisui straightens up. “With all due respect, sir, I think I’d have an easier time keeping the sun from setting.”  
  
He then bows abruptly before spinning on his heel and following after Mikoto.

* * *

“It hasn’t been a week!” Minato yells out, pacing up and down his office. “I can’t believe them! Were they even serious about the détente? Or were they just angling for a way into the village?”  
  
“Hard to say,” Hiashi says neutrally. “But surely, you must now see how unfit for custody the Uchihas are. Especially Uchiha Mikoto. Two kidnapping attempts? Within a week of each other? Disgraceful.”  
  
Minato gifts him with a look capable of peeling paint. “Hiashi-san, is this really the time?”  
  
“It’s the most appropriate time, in fact. The evidence is plain and damning. Allow us to-”  
  
“What, exactly?”  
  
Mikoto steps into his office, the epitome of grace, poise, and seamless movement.  
  
“Well, Hyuuga-san?” she asks. Her voice is even, hushed, belying the killing intent whispering from her.  
  
Minato senses his personal guard shifting about, reacting to Mikoto’s presence. He signals them to stand down. They obey, but with obvious reservations, remaining restless for a half-second longer than they are trained to. He feels Hound settle directly behind him, hovering over his shoulder.  
  
“Uchiha-san,” Hiashi nods at her. “I do believe this is a private appointment.”  
  
Minato can see Uchiha Shisui lurking just outside his office. He appears to be appeasing his secretary. No doubt, Mikoto stormed past him on the way in. That’s enough to irritate anyone.  
  
“What were you going to say? Hmm?” Mikoto repeats, as if Hiashi never spoke. She breathes, nostrils flaring, and the killing intent thickens. “A proposal, perhaps. To rescind my rightful custody over Sasuke. That’s your plan, isn’t it?”  
  
“A strong accusation, Uchiha-san,” Minato says, a warning in his tone.  
  
Mikoto shoots him a brief glare, as if he’s a minor annoyance and not the ultimate authority within the room - within the village, really.  
  
“ _This man_ ,” she spits out, like it’s the filthiest of curses, “is keeping my youngest son in his house without notifying me or receiving my explicit permission.”  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Minato says, because there’s not much else to say on the matter. He turns to Hiashi, a question evident in his gaze.  
  
“I only did what I thought appropriate. You have been remiss in your parental duties.”  
  
“Sasuke was being cared for by his brother.”  
  
“Who is, may I remind you, already a target himself. He presents a danger to those caught between him and his… admirer.”  
  
“This is really not the appropriate time or place for this discussion,” Minato sighs, carding a hand through his hair.  
  
“That’s what his ANBU escort is for.”  
  
“Missing in action. Dead, most likely.”  
  
“My nephew - Shisui - was present. An ANBU captain, need I remind you.”  
  
“And a great help in preventing this debacle.”  
  
They’re ignoring him. They’re ignoring him in his own damn office. His jaw twitches.  
  
“Like you would fare better. Kumo betrayed us. We had high hopes for the peace talks, and then they pulled something like this.”  
  
“An urgent issue in need of addressing. By me. Right now. Here,” Minato tries again. “Kindly have your argument elsewhere. Uchiha-san. Hyuuga-san.”  
  
“How were we supposed to know they would target Sasuke?”  
  
“Isn’t your Sharingan famed for its supposed gift of precognition?”  
  
“In battle. And for mere seconds, not anything on the scale you are implying.”  
  
“I can kick you out,” Minato muses, mostly for his own sake. “Violently, in the most embarrassing fashion I know.”  
  
Hiashi crosses his arms. “So you admit your doujutsu is lacking. If only you were capable of 360° surveillance.”  
  
Mikoto pastes on a grin. “Don’t you mean 359°?”  
  
A spike of killing intent bursts from Hiashi. Minato isn’t even sure he’s blinked this whole time. Mikoto only raises a brow, casually matching his killing intent. Hound renders himself visible, a warning and a reminder.  
  
“Yondaime,” a voice cuts through the tension, punctuated by the tap of a cane.  
  
The killing intent vanishes with dizzying swiftness. Everyone looks over at the man standing in the doorway. Danzo surveys them all with icy disinterest.  
  
“Kumo has sent a missive,” he says. “They want reparations. Specifically, they want the killer of their team leader to be handed over.”  
  
The range of their reactions is comical. Hiashi appears to have swallowed a lemon whole. Mikoto looks like she’s won a small, promotional lottery. Minato can’t begin to guess what his own expression looks like - maybe some mix of horror and fury and shocked amusement. Hound vanishes, the lucky brat.  
  
“I will hand it to A,” he murmurs under his breath. “The man has balls.”  
  
Hiashi whips around, eyes wide with apparent apprehension. “Hokage-sama, surely you won’t capitulate to this outrageous demand.”  
  
Minato gives him the blandest stare he can. Of course now Hiashi remembers his deference. How utterly convenient.  
  
In a rare moment of self-awareness, Hiashi turns sheepish. He lowers his gaze, coughing lightly. “I trust your judgement will be sound.”  
  
Minato catches Mikoto rolling her eyes hard. He remains stern - very stern, indeed.  
  
“I had not considered the offer for even a second,” he tells Hiashi.  
  
“Then it is in our best interests to draft a response immediately,” Danzo says. “They’re claiming we broke the ceasefire first. Seeing as their nin is a corpse, it certainly doesn’t put us in a flattering light.”  
  
“You see, Hokage-sama,” Mikoto chimes in, “Hyuuga-san thinks himself so clever and cunning. But his reckless use of force has led us to this dire outcome.”  
  
“The ceasefire would have ended no matter if the Kumo nin lived or died,” Minato tells her, with a silencing glare. “They took blatant advantage of our trust. We cannot let such a slight pass.”  
  
“We’ll seem belligerent and lusting for war,” Danzo says, his lone eye considering him.  
  
“A village of mercenaries and assassins choosing the more violent resolution? Color me surprised,” Minato drawls out.  
  
This earns him the slightest twitch of Danzo’s mouth. If he was anyone other than Danzo, he would have smiled. Minato is sure of it.  
  
“I'll speak with our daimyo,” he continues on a more serious note, striding to the door. “He won't be, let's say, enthusiastic. But I'll convince him. Kumo must be crazy if they think we’ll cede to their demands. Even the Sage will get angry if his face is hit three times.”  
  
Danzo nods and steps aside, allowing him to pass. Minato sees Shisui loitering in the hallway and gets an idea. He’s not precisely comfortable with leaving Uchiha Mikoto and Hyuuga Hiashi alone together in his office. The potential for disaster is something he’d prefer not to court.  
  
“Captain,” he says.  
  
Shisui immediately snaps to attention. “Sir.”  
  
“I presume you accompanied Uchiha-san for a reason. Was it to curb her fury?”  
  
“Yes, Hokage-sama. I reasoned with her as best I could on the way here.”  
  
“Your efforts were lacking,” Danzo says.  
  
Shisui grimaces. “I… Uh… Noted, sir.”  
  
“Keep an eye on them,” Minato orders. “I don’t want to return and find a crime scene.”  
  
“My aunt wouldn’t lose control that easily.”  
  
“Hyuuga Hiashi will test that. Just…” Minato asks, vaguely aware he’s asking for the impossible. “Get them to behave. And yes, that’s an order.”  
  
“Umm, I’m off-duty?” Shisui offers weakly.  
  
“There’s no such thing for shinobi,” Danzo scoffs, already walking away. “We are wasting time. Kumo awaits a response.”  
  
Minato gives Shisui an apologetic smile before catching up to Danzo. It’s not running away, he tells himself firmly. He’s a leader. He’s well within his rights to delegate tasks. It sounds like a dick move even in his own head.  
  
He and Danzo make their way down a couple halls and up several flights of stairs. Danzo doesn’t say a word as they walk. Minato senses he’s being judged, which isn’t so different from the norm. The old veteran is always judging everyone. He shouldn’t feel so singled out. Except, it’s difficult in this instance, with Danzo being his only company. The silence is stifling.  
  
Minato is beyond grateful when they arrive at the roosting tower, where the messenger hawks are kept. It gives him something to do other than dwell on what is possibly running through Danzo’s head. That’s never a fun thing to contemplate. Pulling out a chakra-infused scroll from a nearby cubby of supplies, he starts to scribble out his reply. Danzo doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not reading over his shoulder. It does effectively dissuade Minato from simply cursing out the Raikage, but just barely.  
  
When Danzo huffs and turns away, Minato takes it as his tacit approval. He probably finds his reply lacking in some way, but not nearly terrible enough to comment on. That’s fine by Minato. He rolls up the scroll and selects a hawk for the job. Placing his palm on the raptor’s back, he leaves a warding seal, to alert him in the event of interference.  
  
“I expected you to agree,” Danzo says, apropos of nothing.  
  
Minato sends off the hawk. “Pardon?”  
  
“Hiruzen would have agreed to the terms if it meant peace.”  
  
“I don’t relish this decision, sir. I would have peace if the price was not so absurd.”  
  
Danzo hums in thought. He doesn’t seem convinced by his words. Regarding what specifically, Minato doesn’t have the faintest clue.  
  
“I will arrange a jounin council meeting,” Danzo tells him. “We must warn the frontlines to expect retaliation from Kumo.”  
  
“Agreed,” Minato nods. “When do you intend to hold the meeting?”  
  
Danzo narrows his visible eye. “No.”  
  
Minato blinks. “No?”  
  
“This Uchiha-Hyuuga spat needed to be handled yesterday, Namikaze.”  
  
“It’s Uzumaki now, actually.”  
  
Danzo glares at him, severely unimpressed. “I will manage the military affairs. Your top priority is this feud. Make sure it doesn’t erupt into a full-blown internal conflict. We have more than Kumo circling us.”  
  
Minato frowns, squaring his shoulders. “Now wait just one minute. You can’t just take charge of our troop movements. In case you have forgotten, Danzo, I am your Hokage-”  
  
“Then act like it.” Danzo leans in, tapping a gnarled finger on his chest. “Handle the Uchiha-Hyuuga affair, or I will handle it for you.”  
  
“I don’t take kindly to intimidation.”  
  
“Do you have any better ideas?”  
  
Minato bites his tongue, swallowing his impulse to cite petty jealousy. Danzo wants to be Hokage. Everyone knows this. But his extensive injuries prevented him from being seriously considered. Minato is everything he used to be. Young, fiercely brilliant, a legend still being made; a more perfect foil could not be conceived.  
  
Danzo has many reasons to envy him. He also has many reasons to be right. The clans talk - they do little else, Minato thinks. This spat will only grow increasingly dire if left to fester. It would be the wisest move to devote all his efforts to this issue.  
  
Minato recognizes the merits of leaving Danzo to organize the military planning. But he doesn’t have to like it. He shoulders past him. Danzo doesn’t even stumble. He walks out of the tower - anger, with a splash of embarrassment, churning in his gut. It seethes and froths like a kettle boiling over as he heads down the stairs and through the halls.  
  
Danzo is not the first to find him lacking as a leader. They give him all sorts of critique. He’s much too young. He’s got a foreigner for a wife, a jinchuuriki even. He’s from an unknown background, mostly due to a lack of notoriety than any purposeful secrecy. On a different day, he would have ignored such skepticism. But it’s Hiashi and Mikoto arguing in his office - disregarding him outright. It’s Kumo violating their ceasefire mere days after them speaking with each other. And now, it’s Danzo with his blatant disapproval, seizing control as he sees fit. And Minato won’t stop him because, for now, it’s actually a good idea to let him have control. This stings more than anything else.  
  
Minato faces his office doors, rage resolving into chilling determination, and enters with a resounding bang.  
  
Uchiha Mikoto and Hyuuga Hiashi whip around to face him. They’re both breathing heavily, their faces splotched red.  
  
“If the Hyuuga does not get custody over Sasuke, we will pull our clansmen from sentry duty,” Hiashi announces.  
  
“Try it, and the Uchiha will arrest you for child abduction, and we will take your entire clan to court,” Mikoto declares.  
  
Shisui appears to be windswept and rattled. He can only shrug in the universal gesture of “I tried.”  
  
“Shut up. Both of you,” Minato orders, his voice low and paper thin. “Sit.”  
  
Mikoto and Hiashi sit.  
  
Minato stalks past them with all the honed finesse of a hunting predator. He stands behind his desk, staring them down through half-lidded eyes.  
  
“Here’s what will happen. We will have an official court hearing. I will be the judge presiding. You will find someone to represent your case. I will give you three days to prepare. Am I clear?”  
  
"But what of-”  
“My son is-”  
  
“I am placing Uchiha Sasuke in my custody until you have reached an agreement.”  
  
“What?”  
“Wait, you can’t-”  
  
“You are dismissed.”  
  
“This is-”  
“You must be-”  
  
“ _You are dismissed_.”  
  
Mikoto and Hiashi gape at him, stunned stupid. Minato intensifies his glare. They start and rise to their feet, bowing mechanically.  
  
“Hokage-sama,” they murmur, before filing out of his office. They close the door with a resounding click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!


	7. Six Inch Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sasuke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

The Hyuuga household is huge, scary clean, and has the prettiest paintings Sasuke has ever seen. Just in their giant living room, there are three paintings. One has a cloud of butterflies fluttering over a hill, a glistening moon illuminating them. Another has a portrait of a beautiful lady with thick, straight black hair and two identical boys in front of her (the Hyuuga twins and their mother, but they all look so sad that Sasuke had no way of guessing). The last has a waterfall streaming down a hill of orchids. Sasuke doesn't have words to describe them, especially the last one, since he doesn’t know what an orchid is.  
  
It doesn’t matter. He loses himself in them. They are stunning, and Sasuke doesn’t want to think about what happened last night after he chased the pretty lights in the forest. Nii-san had been upset, even before the sour twin demanded that Sasuke stay at his house since no one among the Uchiha was watching him. Sasuke was going to yell at the twin for being mean to his brother, but something about the way Nii-san looked just then glued his mouth shut.  
  
He doesn't know what he would have done if the mean twin hadn't let Nii-san go wherever Sasuke went.  
  
“That sounds like a genjutsu,” Nii-san had explained later, after Sasuke had told him that he went out to chase pretty lights in the forest. “Like how a Hyuuga would see a genjutsu.”  
  
“But I’m not a Hyuuga.”  
  
His brother had said nothing to that, and Sasuke had not known how to press the issue.  
  
“Why didn't you come get me?” Nii-san had asked.  
  
“You were busy with Cousin Shisui.”  
  
“That’s never stopped you before.”  
  
Sasuke had tried to hold it in, because he’s a big boy now so he shouldn’t cry as much. Crying never does anything anyway. But he had felt his stupid lip wibble, and then his eyes had tears all of a sudden. And he hadn’t meant for any of that, honest.  
  
“Never mind.” But Nii-san had frowned as he patted Sasuke’s head, probably thinking he was being such a baby. “Just. . . Never chase ‘pretty lights’ again, Sasuke. Just because something is pretty doesn't mean it’s nice.”  
  
Sasuke had nodded then, and tried not to cry anymore.  
  
Sasuke really is so glad that Nii-san is glued to his side, but he can tell that his brother is. . . not like he is back home. He barely moves, except for when he follows Sasuke around the room - back straight, hands by his sides, gaze flat. Nii-san usually lets him wander around, ignoring most of his questions and poking him in the forehead when he gets too annoying. Yesterday, Sasuke would have beamed at the idea of his brother being so interested in him, but now it’s too much.  
  
One of the Hyuuga enters the big living room, and Sasuke jumps behind his brother. He giggles nervously at his own foolishness, but still, he uses Nii-san’s larger body as a shield. His eyes turn on without him meaning to, and  so he can see through his brother’s body. It’s the Hyuuga lady married to the sour twin who spends most of the day at home, waiting for other Hyuuga to come visit him. She always has a glowing sign on her forehead that Sasuke can’t really make out from far away. With his eyes on, Sasuke can see trails of chakra sinking deep into her head and around the chakra that feeds her eyes. That’s kinda weird. But Sasuke thinks more about her hair, and how he likes that it’s kinda blue. A lot of Hyuuga have pretty, shiny hair. Except now he knows better about pretty things. So maybe that means the Hyuuga aren’t nice at all.  
  
“I hope you're both comfortable,” says the Hyuuga lady. “Circumstances are less than ideal, but we are family. In a way.”  
  
Nii-san doesn't say anything. And that’s rude, if it is true they are guests. Sasuke doesn't feel like a guest.  
  
“Is there anything that would make you feel better?”  
  
“Taking my brother home,” says Nii-san.  
  
The Hyuuga lady smiles at that, then bows slightly and disappears back into the big house. Sasuke turns his eyes off.  
  
Questions tangle up inside him. He knows that whatever’s happened is his fault, but he hopes that if he pretends not to understand, Nii-san won’t get mad at him again.  
  
“I’m sorry, Nii-san.”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” says Itachi.  
  
But it is. Sasuke knows this, and he buries his face in his brother’s hip. He’s a big boy, he reminds himself. He mustn't cry so much. But his chest is feeling all tight and funny. He’s so busy trying to keep himself from crying that he doesn’t notice someone else coming into the living room until he feels his brother tense up.  
  
“Hello.” It’s the little boy with brown hair who waved at Sasuke before. He likes looking at things a little like Sasuke does, maybe. “You can come out, you know. Dad says it’s rude to look at people with your Byakugan.”  
  
Sasuke knows his eyes are a Byakugan, but he’s also beginning to guess that they aren’t supposed to be. He burrows closer to his brother.  
  
“Don’t be afraid,” says the little boy.  
  
“I’m not afraid!” He isn’t. But Nii-san seems more relaxed now, and why wouldn’t he be? It’s just a little boy.  
  
“Then come out.”  
  
Sasuke does, rubbing his eyes. He keeps a hand on Nii-san’s belt and looks up at him, wondering what to do. But Nii-san is still all weird - not like he’s getting ready to fight, just weird somehow. Sasuke doesn’t know what that means. Nothing good, probably.  
  
The little boy steps a little closer, smiling. He’s a little taller than Sasuke, dressed in a white yukata, and bows like they’re in one of Mama’s soaps. “You can see really far with your Byakugan, much farther than I could without practice.”  
  
“Um.” Nobody ever talks to Sasuke about his eyes. He looks up at Nii-san again, but he’s still no help. Now he’s just giving the little boy a mean look.  
  
“Oh, forgive my poor manners,” says the little boy, bowing at Nii-san. “I’m Hyuuga Neji. My father is Hiashi-sama’s brother, one of the surgeons at the hospital.”  
  
“I know him,” says Nii-san.  
  
“Oh,” says Neji. Then he turns back to Sasuke. “You want to go out to the garden? You can see the bottom of the pond with your eyes.”  
  
That has never occurred to Sasuke before. “Nii-san, can we?”  
  
“. . .Yes.”  
  
There’s another Hyuuga lady, an older one with long, thick black hair, in the garden with a canvass and painting oils. Sasuke doesn’t like the look of her; she caught him staring with his eyes earlier, and even though she had done nothing besides stare back, it had chilled Sasuke’s blood. She was like one of those big cats he only sees in books, a panther or something, and she got all insulted because her food talked back to her. That would be pretty weird. But it’s different now; with Nii-san by his side, Sasuke could face anything. He nods at Neji, and Neji leads them to the backyard.    
  
The painter lady ignores them as they walk past her, even though Neji bows at her and everything. Sasuke slips a hand into Nii-san’s and tries to act just as calm. He lasts maybe five seconds before he ends up running excitedly after Neji when the other boy rushes to the pond, the veins around his eyes bulging with chakra. Their own house is on the other side of the pond, but Sasuke avoids looking inside it. It will be deserted, and that’s wrong.  
  
“Look.” Neji points at the surface of the pond as Sasuke activates his eyes. The chakra that flows through his arm is almost as pretty as Itachi’s. “It’s too far down for sunlight to mean much, but you can see the fish’s chakra. Dad says when I’m older I can swim down and look closer.”  
  
There’s a blanket of shimmering chakra flowing over the bottom of the lake. It moves like a concerted wave, but it can't be a single being down there. Sasuke focuses until he can differentiate different glowing patterns in the blanket, strange circles moving at random in varying sizes.  
  
“Nii-san, try to see.” Sasuke squeezes his brother’s hand. “With your Sharingan.”  
  
“It doesn't work like that,” says Nii-san.  
  
That’s too bad.  
  
“I wanted to play with Hinata-sama,” says Neji, “but her Byakugan can’t see far enough yet, and the other kids don't come here often because they can't stay quiet and Honoka-sama doesn't like the noise.”    
  
“Why do you call ‘em that?” asks Sasuke, reaching towards the pond. His fingers touch the water before he expects them too. His eyes trick him sometimes.  
  
“Call them what?”  
  
“Such-and-such-sama,” says Sasuke. “Why?”  
  
Neji pauses, head tilted and mouth set in a thin line, and then he relaxes. “Dad’s home!” He turns around and starts running back to the house.  
  
That makes Sasuke think of Papa, still in the hospital with a missing chunk of lung. He focuses harder on the chakra lights at the bottom of the pond, and he would have kept his gaze on it until his eyes flickered off, but Nii-san starts watching something behind them. Sasuke follows his lead without conscious thought, so he looks back at the house. It’s the other twin, the one who isn't always frowning. He’s staring out at the pond, right at Sasuke. Neji stops halfway between him and the pond, like he knows something bad’s about to happen. Sasuke thinks so too, but maybe he’s just being silly. The lady continues painting.  
  
“What are they doing here?” asks the twin. He’s not frowning like his brother, but it’s all wrong. Sasuke can just tell. He doesn't remember the last time he was so scared.  
  
No, he does. When the bad man came for Nii-san and hurt Papa.  
  
“Hiashi has seized custody of the traitor’s by-blow,” says the painting lady. The musical lilt of her voice barely carries over to the pond. She sets the board with the painting oils aside, turning towards the twin and slipping her hands inside the sleeves of her kimono.  
  
Nii-san moves closer to the Hyuuga household and Sasuke follows, because surely Nii-san knows best.  
  
“Has he?” The twin’s lip twitches. “And will his clan just sit back and take that?”  
  
“We shall see.”  
  
“We shall see,” says the twin, almost sing-song. “We shall see blood before the Uchiha stand for this. Don’t you understand? You have endangered all of us! How dare you!”  
  
“How dare I,” repeats the woman, volume rising. “I will _dare_ as I please! Who are you to lecture me? You insolent, insubordinate-”

“Arrogant witch! You expect others to die for your crusade!”  
  
Neji runs forward and Sasuke’s arm twitches, as if trying to reach out and warn him. Of what, Sasuke doesn’t know. “Dad!”  
  
“Sasuke, don’t look,” says Itachi, as the twin rounds on his mother.  
  
The air gets heavy and hot, and Sasuke’s throat clenches. His heart races inside his chest. He remembers all those stories about rabbits running from wolves and foxes and hawks. They must have felt just like this.  
  
“Don’t think this foolishness makes you brave,” says the woman.  
  
“I hope the Uchiha burn this clan to cinders,” says the twin.  
  
Sasuke doesn’t know how he can even hear them. They’re not close enough, unless the older Hyuugas are shouting at each other. Maybe he would hear them even if he was safe behind the walls of his home. He squeezes his eyes shut, but chakra flows to them all the same, so he sees when the woman brings her hands together and forms a seal. Sasuke is not a ninja yet, but he knows that seals are a threat, that people only do them when they mean to fight.  
  
“Nii-san-”  
  
The twin’s knees buckle, and a strangled shout bursts from his throat. It cuts off, like the twin is forcing it back to where it came from, holding his breath. His hands tremble, then move towards his head. The chakra branded in his forehead sizzles and pulls at his eyes.    
  
“Dad!” Neji runs faster.  
  
The twin growls, then walks towards the woman with shaky legs. “You think you can scare me with this?” he yells, breath coming out in pants.  
  
As the woman takes a step back, the brand over the twin’s forehead glows brighter. It must hurt. Hurt is not a strong enough word, but Sasuke doesn’t know any others. He tries to remember that Nii-san is still right beside him, not freaking out like he is. But for the first time in Sasuke’s life, his brother’s presence doesn’t mean anything. His heart beats faster and tears start streaming down his cheeks. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. Tugging at Nii-san’s shirt, Sasuke lets himself cry. Everything is awful. Mama isn’t here, and neither is Papa. Bad things keep happening. And he just wants to go home.  
  
Nii-san gently draws him closer, making shushing noises. But that doesn’t help because they’re still here. Why are they still here? The grownups don’t care. They’re busy arguing with each other.  
  
“Turn off your Byakugan, Sasuke,” Nii-san orders.  
  
Sasuke wants to, he swears. But he’s having a hard time thinking, so he’s forgotten how. He ends up watching the twin get close enough that he can wrap a hand around the woman’s neck. His hand starts glowing, and that is definitely not good. Oh, Sasuke thinks, he’s choking her. So that’s what choking looks like.  
  
“You left me with a monster that did this to me at least once a day for years,” the twin tells the lady. “It means nothing to me now.”  
  
Sasuke doesn’t notice the other twin has arrived until a pair of hands wrap around the twin’s shoulders and pull him away. The seal on his forehead shimmers, and Sasuke’s scared he’ll go blind if he keeps looking. But this means nothing to the fighting twin, and it only makes him growl.  
  
“Hizashi, stop it!” It’s the sour twin, looking horrified. “Are you trying to make me kill you?”  
  
Finally, the brand on the twin’s forehead bursts with a strong flare, and all the twin’s chakra blinks off. Sasuke gasps, unable to breathe until the twin’s chakra blinks back on, like a television set that got cut off for just an instant. His body goes limp in his brother’s arms, and Sasuke breathes again. The woman is hunched over, gasping, a hand on her knees and the other rubbing at her neck. Her composure leaves her as short, gasping breaths escape her nostrils. Neji is a few feet away from the steps leading to the house, covering his face with his hands.  
  
“It’s been decided that Uchiha Sasuke will stay with the Yondaime Hokage until our clans come to an agreement,” says the still-conscious twin.  
  
It takes Sasuke a moment to figure out that he’s talking to Nii-san.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot of noise going on outside. Naruto peeks out the window, squinting into the sunlight. He can make out a boy - two boys. Oh, it’s Itachi and Sasuke. Nobody told him they were coming over. And it looks like someone peed in Sasuke’s cereal. Naruto would know. He did it once.
> 
> “Mama!” He tugs at her skirts. “Why are they here? Why is Sasuke crying?”
> 
> Mama sighs and picks him up. “How about we go outside and greet them, hmm?”
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11885112/chapters/26841510)


	8. Daddy Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reason has died. The Hyuuga have killed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Hiashi is thirty-one minutes older than his brother. If their birth records are to be believed, he had also been one-and-a-half pounds heavier. Sometimes, he suspects that Honoka had lied about that, and Hizashi is the true leader between them, but it makes no sense that Honoka had hated Hizashi since his birth. Because Hiashi is a coward, he has never asked Honoka one way or the other.  
  
He watches her as she seats herself on the rocking chair by the window of her studio. A reddish bruise adorns her slim neck like an ugly necklace, but otherwise, she looks as peaceful as ever. Her posture is flawless, has always been flawless, even while her husband showered her with spittle in his drunken rages. Hiashi bets that if he activates his Byakugan, he would see Hizashi in a similar state. Calm and untouchable.   
  
“What happened?”  
  
“He disrespected me in front of outsiders,” says Honoka, with an almost imperceptible shrug.   
  
“That’s all? That’s why you activated his Seal? For your petty little feud?”  
  
“You’ve always been far too lenient with him. Now look. He’s gotten out of control. I won’t stand for it.”  
  
Hiashi walks closer to the rocking chair and leans down so he can stare into her eyes. “The Seal is only meant to protect our bloodline. It is not a tool for torture.”  
  
“There you go again, with your noble notions.” Honoka pins Hiashi with a narrow-eyed look. “Need I remind you, he tried to kill me?”  
  
Yes. If not for the Seal scrambling his chakra, Hizashi would have killed her in an instant. Just like he’d killed their father. Hiashi couldn't prove it, has never even hinted his suspicions to Hizashi, but he knows. And he doesn't care. Their father had been a monster.   
  
Their mother, on the other hand… Hiashi straightens up, considering the woman before him.    
  
“I’m sure my brother has his reasons.”  
  
“ _Your brother_ ,” Honoka sneers, “needs to know his place.”  
  
Hiashi stays silent, looking away from her. Disappointment curdles in the space below his ribs. He mutters under his breath, “You’re just like your late husband.”  
  
Honoka’s eyes widen, the only hint that she’s perturbed before she slaps him. She’s no shinobi, so even without his Byakugan active, her arm moves glacially slow. Hiashi doesn't dodge, lets the minimal force of her strike force his neck to the side. His cheek stings for a moment, tingles, and then the feeling is gone. He looks back at her, stares until her lips tighten, and then stands up and leaves her studio.   
  
It will be hours until Hizashi wakes. Hiashi had to flood his nerves with significant pain, on top of what Honoka had already done to him, and he doesn’t want to think about how long that had gone on before he arrived. He thinks of going to his wife, but then he would have to demand details. Hinata and Neji must be about, probably with the maid, easily found with his Byakugan. He would have to comfort Neji, though. In the end, Hiashi avoids the issue altogether. He plants himself out back, where Honoka often paints when the weather permits, and looks out beyond the pond, to the Uchiha household.   
  
The Uchiha own a more modest house than theirs, which his mother had built with purposeful extravagance after leaving them to their father. He and Hizashi had still been learning to read, they were that young. Years later and now a grown man, Hiashi lives again with his mother. He had to adjust with living so close to the Uchiha and, out of courtesy, he had avoided looking their way. But it was hard to be selective during the daily exercises of his Byakugan.

What he’d seen of his neighbors indicates a relatively happy home, with cousins going about without much fuss or ceremony. Formality is minimal among the Uchiha, and before the mess with Sasuke had started, Hiashi would have called that a weakness. Now, he wonders. Uchiha Mikoto’s infidelity doesn’t seem to have fazed the Uchiha at all, and Hiashi is starting to doubt his initial assumption that it’s because they had a plan to steal his clan’s kekkei genkai.  
  
He stays on the porch until nightfall, thoughts swimming in circles. Once the moon is full and bright in the starry sky, Hiashi heads to his brother’s room. Hizashi is already awake, toweling his dark hair before slipping on a flak jacket. Hiashi stares dumbfounded, and probably would have stood by his door for hours, but then Hizashi turns to him and raises an eyebrow.   
  
“You’re not going to say anything?” asks Hiashi, praying for patience.  
  
“I’m on-call tonight.”  
  
Of course he is. “Not even going to see Neji? He was inconsolable.”  
  
“Someone managed to console him,” says Hizashi, opening a drawer and taking out a pair of thick, black socks. “He’s asleep.”  
  
Hiashi stares at him, his calm slipping. “What’s gotten into you?!”   
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“You don’t know? Oh really? How can you say that? You just tried to kill our mother - _our mother_. And now, you won’t even see to your own son!”  
  
“She’s never been a mother of mine. Maybe to you, but not to me.”  
  
“Regardless! You can’t just attack her! Have you lost your mind?”  
  
“If that woman sees fit to bring war to our doorstep, I’ll take action as _I_ see fit.”  
  
“She could’ve killed you.”  
  
“Not if I kill her first.”  
  
Hiashi abandons all lofty ideals about composure and groans, running his hands through his hair. “Why do you always put me in this position?”   
  
“I don’t put you in any position. Heaven forbid a Branch member tell the clan head what to do.”  
  
“Are you still stuck on that? Just let it go.”  
  
Hizashi gives him such a look, and for a split second, Hiashi fears for his safety. But as quickly as it came, Hizashi smooths out his expression.  
  
“I’m going to be late for work,” he informs Hiashi.  
  
Hiashi should not be surprised. This is how Hizashi handles all problems: pretend nothing is wrong and go about your business. He had done as much whenever their father had tortured him into unconsciousness- beating him bloody and broken a few limbs, when his petition had been denied to join the combat division and he was ordered to become a medic, and even when their father ordered him to marry a woman he despised.    
  
He sighs, and all manner of emotion - outrage, disbelief, concern - drains out him. Now, he’s just terribly exhausted. “What will I tell our cousins when they ask what happened here?”  
  
“Tell them that I spoke out of turn and got punished,” says Hizashi, shrugging as he slips on his sneakers. Dressed in a standard jounin outfit, he almost doesn’t look like a Hyuuga.   
  
“We aren’t children anymore. You can’t pass this off as a fit of teenage rebellion.”  
  
“When have I ever done so?”   
  
“You attacked an elder,” snaps Hiashi. “What do I say about that?”  
  
“Whatever you want.” Hizashi has the sheer nerve to roll his eyes, like he’s a child who’s been caught with his father’s sake. He wraps a headband around his head, hiding the Caged Bird Seal.   
  
Hiashi grabs his arm when he tries to slip past him.  
  
“I told you I have to work,” says Hizashi.  
  
Not for the first time, Hiashi’s fingers itch with an impulse to activate the damned Caged Bird Seal. He’s never done it, not to Hizashi or any other Branch member, and the only person who makes him consider it is his twin. If Hizashi would just keep his head down and settle for the unspoken admiration of anyone whose life he’s ever saved (practically half the village), most of Hiashi’s problems would vanish.  
  
“Is your life really so terrible?”  
  
Hizashi stares at him as though he’s grown a second head, and then wrenches his arm away. “I told you I have work. Unless you’re planning to torture me unconscious a second time, I’m going.”   
  
It takes every ounce of self-control Hiashi possesses to let him go. Hizashi is the better fighter between them. Without the Seal, Hiashi has no hope of subduing him, and he refuses to cross that line.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small figure dressed in classic Uchiha navy blue turns the corner. Uchiha Itachi. Akari’s sending Anko away to avoid a scene like the one from yesterday, when one of the married ladies caught her husband’s new, younger sidepiece in the waiting room.
> 
> “Am I the wife, or is he?” asks Anko, when Itachi is within earshot.
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11279763/chapters/26677983)


	9. Love Draught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minato worries about his political situation and Fugaku is just straight up tired of all this nonsense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02)for beta-reading this

“I could use some good news,” Minato says bluntly.

With the custody spat on brief hold, and Kumo attended to by Danzo, Minato returns to the Orochimaru case. He has called up Morino Ibiki, a younger jounin in Intelligence who survived an impressive six weeks as a POW in Kumo without spilling a single Konoha secret. Ugly, raised scar tissue limits Ibiki’s ability to make facial expressions, but that’s not so bad as far as battle disabilities go.

“Hokage-sama,” says Ibiki, bowing crisply.

“Your report,” asks Minato.

“I’ve gotten word from the Hunter-nin looking for Orochimaru’s village hideout.”

“Oh?” He doubts Orochimaru has been found.

“We’ve found what appears to be an illicit laboratory,” Ibiki says. “And more evidence pertaining to the missing babies.”

“Which I’d completely forgotten about,” admits Minato.

“They appear to have been test subjects. From the gathered material, we deduced Orochimaru was trying to artificially implant the Mokuton kekkei genkai. He didn’t only use infants for his experiments. There were corpses of varying ages, from two to six years of age.”

“Corpses? No survivors?”

Ibiki frowns, and it almost looks like one of the scars on his upper lip wants to split open. “We counted 59 corpses. But, we found a total of 60 records.”

Minato steeples his fingers, locking eyes with Ibiki. “So, there’s one still alive.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then a question remains. Was Orochimaru successful? And if so…”

Ibiki nods. “What happened to it?”

Minato hums in thought, scribbling a reminder for himself. “Thank you for keeping me updated. You’re dismissed.”

Ibiki salutes him before spinning on his heel and walking to the door. He meets Shikaku on his way out. They nod at each other. Shikaku closes the door behind him.

“You wanted to see me, Hokage-sama?” he asks, settling into his trademark slouch.

Minato smiles ruefully. “I do apologize for asking you to come in on your day off.”

Shikaku snorts. “We only get a break when we’re dead. You should know that.”

“Aa,” Minato chuckles. Then he frowns, running a hand through his hair. “I called you here for two reasons. First, we are resuming hostilities with Kumo.”

“Figured as much. Do we have the support of our daimyo?”

“I convinced him of the necessity. We simply can’t consider an alternate response.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Danzo has taken control of the military movements.”

Shikaku snaps to attention, straightening up. “He’s showed his hand?”

“Oh. No. It’s not a coup, or anything close to it. I allowed him to.”

Shikaku eyes him, considering his next words carefully. “...That’s unlike you, Minato.”

Minato sighs, slumping in his seat. “Yes, so, you know about the Uchiha-Hyuuga debacle?”

“Pfft, a better question is, who doesn’t know? Kumo sure as hell do. They pick the one kid with ties to a Sharingan and a Byakugan? That can’t be coincidence.”

“It’s basically making my life a living nightmare. That’s the second reason you’re here.”

“You need advice on how to settle the conflict.”

Minato makes a vague gesture with his hand. “I’ve got ideas, from gently nudging them along to straight-up outlawing the Caged Bird Seal.”

Shikaku raises a brow. “That’s… extreme.”

“So is sealing your clansmen, incidentally.”

“Point. But it does set a precedent for the Hokage to meddle with inner clan affairs. That’s bound to make others uncomfortable.”

“Which is why I’m not going to do it.” Minato pauses for a moment, thinking it over. “Maybe. Hopefully. I’m sure the Hyuugas won’t be so irrational.”

“Well, now you just jinxed it.”

Minato and Shikaku share a laugh.

“If you did outlaw the Caged Bird Seal,” Shikaku says, thinking aloud, “you’d be blatantly favoring the Uchihas. Why not pressure them into letting Sasuke get sealed?”

“Ah, you caught me.” Minato turns, facing the window. He gets to his feet and folds his hands behind his back. “I find the Caged Bird Seal abhorrent. If push comes to shove, I won’t side with those who enslave their kin.”

“You’d make an enemy of the Hyuugas.”

“I like to think just half of them will resent me.”

“The Main family could prove themselves dangerous, especially to you and yours.”

“Yes. I know. But if I did scare easily, I wouldn’t be Hokage.”

Rubbing the nape of his neck, Shikaku lets out a deep breath. “Well, it shouldn’t get so dire. You probably won’t need to go that far.”

Minato faces him, a wry grin on his lips. “The keyword is probably.”

“Hn. If you ask me, you can just use Kumo as a pressure point. They’ve already revealed their agenda: to steal Konoha’s doujutsus. That’s bound to scare the clans into cooperation.”

“Let’s hope. The Hyuugas won’t stand for anything less than sealing Sasuke. The Uchihas will fight them to the very last nin. The whole thing is a powder keg about to explode.”

Shikaku nods. “How troublesome.”

“Basically. That’s why Danzo is in charge of our frontlines.” Minato puts his hands on his desk, leaning forward. He looks straight at Shikaku. “As jounin commander, I need you to be my eyes and ears. Make sure Danzo doesn’t get away with anything more than keeping the troops organized. I don’t want shinobi mysteriously vanishing from the field.”

Shikaku meets his stare, a determined glint in his eyes. “You can count on me, Hokage-sama.”

Minato nods. A beat of silence, then he sighs, his shoulders sagging. “I’ll try to quickly wrap up this whole custody thing. Sage knows how. But I’ll figure something out.”

“We'd side with you,” Shikaku tells him. “That’s the other reason you called for me. The real reason. You want my opinion on which way the clans will fall, if this all goes straight to hell.”

“And you’d side with me?” Minato narrows his eyes. “Define ‘you’.”

“The Nara will. And we can convince the Akimichi and the Yamanaka to follow. Tsume and Shibi respect you enough. Even if they don’t agree, they’ll at least stay neutral. The smaller clans will take their cues from either the Akimichi or the Aburame. Only the Hyuugas would be your real opposition. And like you said, it’d be just half of them. Possibly less, considering the Main to Branch ratio.”

Minato studies Shikaku, searching for any hint of a lie. But the Nara clan head, his appointed jounin commander and one of oldest friends, simply smiles at him. He reaches over and claps Minato on the shoulder.

“You’re a good leader, Minato. And people do trust you more than you know. The village is not just the Hyuugas and the Uchihas, even if they steal the spotlight all the damn time.”

Minato snorts, shaking his head. He lowers his gaze, staring at his scarred-over knuckles. “Thank you. I… Just… Thank you.”

“I’d fear the man who could do this job alone,” Shikaku replies, pulling away.

* * *

 

Fugaku has been groomed to lead the police force since birth, and the skills needed to manage shinobi and civilian miscreants are not the same skills needed from a frontline jounin. He still has the training though, so he knows that his injuries are so severe that if he were a frontline jounin, he would be facing early retirement. He breathes easily enough when he’s resting, but even shifting around in bed too quickly makes his heart beat like a rabbit in his chest.

“This is stupid,” says Hizashi, as Fugaku struggles out of bed. “You’re being stupid.”

Fugaku ignores him, grunting as the cheap hospital bed sheets slide over his knuckles. He will not stand another minute in this suffocating hospital room, with its bile-yellow walls and vapidly smiling med-chuunin and volunteers. He’s going home.

“I wouldn't have spent so much time trying to patch you up if I knew you would throw a fit and take yourself home to bleed out,” continues Hizashi.

“Oh, shut up.”

Hizashi does so, but graces Fugaku with a flat look. Which might be more effective if he didn't look so silly in a green cap that strains to hold his thick black hair. Once Hizashi loses the softness of youth, he’ll probably cut quite the imposing figure. One of the deceptively dowdy, militant civilian nurses had fetched him from the OR the instant Fugaku announced that he was going home.

“Shouldn't you be in some surgery?”

“I don't go to your crime scenes and tell you how to do your job.”

“Yes, you do.” Fugaku grunts as he slips into a pair of sandals. “You did the autopsies for the infected jounin corpses, remember?”

He shakes his head lightly, as if to chase off the buzz of doubts. He’s been walking around the ward for days, and once the nurse even got called away for an emergency and he made it back to his room without help. It’s not like he’s going out to the frontlines, just back home to rest.

“Your lung wound still isn't healed,” says Hizashi. “I may have to go in and take more out.”

“No more surgeries,” says Fugaku. If he takes a deep breath, he can almost feel the empty part in his ribcage. “I trust in your skills.”

“If you're going to patronize me,” says Hizashi, walking to stand in front of Fugaku, “let me summarize all I’ve done to keep you alive.”

“I’m sure it was impressive.”

“You were exsanguinating into your own chest cavity,” says Hizashi, “with Orochimaru’s poison making your blood as thin as water. I had to transfuse you the same blood you were desperately trying to lose until backup arrived, then I spent seven hours - after a soldier pill - cutting a piece of dead lung out of you. And now you're going to risk that... why? Is hospital food really that bad?”

“Sasuke’s custody hearing is tomorrow.”

Hizashi freezes, so briefly as to be almost imperceptible, and shrugs. “You plan to go in this state? What, hoping that if you start vomiting blood in the middle of it, my family might take pity on you?”

 _Could I start vomiting blood?_ Fugaku doesn’t ask. “I want to get any news in my own home.”

“...Fine.” Hizashi turns around and starts tucking stray strands of dark hair under his cap. “Suit yourself.”

“Hizashi.”

The Hyuuga pauses at the threshold out of the room, stiff.

“What are the chances that your family won't escalate this into a bloodbath?”

Fugaku expects a retort about the chances that the Uchiha won't escalate the situation, but Hizashi shrugs, not turning around. “The Main family does not inform me of its plans.”

“Come on,” insists Fugaku. “You are the clan head’s twin, a war veteran, and a senior jounin surgeon.”

“I am also half-an-hour younger than my brother,” says Hizashi, a moment before leaving the room.

Fukagu closes his eyes, realizing that the short exchange has made his heart beat a little faster. Not alarmingly so, but he can't risk taking a deep, calming breath. As he gathers the few things he has in the bedroom, he considers sending for one of his younger cousins to escort him back home. His pride scoffs at the idea, but the policeman in him points out that if it was another man demanding to go home against his medic’s advice, Fugaku would prefer that they did not do so without company. He decides as he slips into his clothes that if he can tolerate changing without help, he can probably make the walk back to the Uchiha compound on his own, as long as he doesn't travel at a shinobi’s pace.

Hizashi takes the choice out of his hands. Just as Fugaku is stretching, a young genin working at the hospital walks in and announces that Hizashi has ordered her to see Fugaku home. Fugaku lets the girl accompany him to the compound without a comment, and sends her back after one of his cousins, Tojiro, takes over. He tries to enjoy the pleasant summer breeze passing through the compound, carrying the scent of the forest. After so many days under autoclaved sheets, being handled by medics loaded with latex gloves and dozens of antiseptics, the forest is the most sublime perfume Fugaku can remember.

“Tomorrow is the custody trial,” Tojiro says as they enter Fugaku’s home.

It’s unusually quiet, but this is to be expected. Mikoto is away, managing either clan or house affairs - possibly both. Sasuke has been placed in the Uzumaki’s custody. Itachi is taking missions again. It left the house seeming much larger than usual.

“We’re all ready to fight if it comes to that, Fugaku-sama,” Tojiro tells him, his zeal highlighting his youth.

“Yes, I know,” Fugaku nods. Technically, Mikoto is the clan head while Fugaku recovers, and Cousin Shiro leads the police force, but they have both done their best to keep him apprised. “I want to go out to the yard.”

He’s been cooped up long enough. The Hyuuga will not be in their mansion across the pond, and if some of them are, Fugaku refuses to be intimidated.

“There are less Hyuuga in the village than usual,” Tojiro says outside, after Fugaku has settled under the shade of the trees they use for target practice. “So the Main family might pretend to be reasonable, but we'll have to sleep with one eye open when the war with Kumo ends.”

What a disaster they're all in. The younger clansmen are both eager to shed blood for their family, and terrified that they might perish under a Byakugan's unforgiving gaze.

“At least Kumo intends to be a nuisance for longer than we initially thought. We have some time yet, if it ever comes to that,” Fugaku reminds him.

“I mean, yeah. Assuming the conflict won’t get worse from now on. But with Elder Rakshasha arguing for us...” The boy sighs.

Fugaku can't even muster up some hollow words of comfort. “You can go back to your duties,” he says. “I got all the way here without issues; I’ll be fine on my own.”

The boy protests, so Fugaku throws some weight around, and then lets himself slump in the chair when he’s alone. The elders, Uchiha jounin, and even Fugaku himself all agree: they would tear Konoha to shreds before letting the Hyuuga enslave one of their own. It isn’t even that Sasuke is probably a Sharingan carrier, though the possibility is certainly not insignificant, but that Sasuke is innocent. And most importantly of all, a child of an Uchiha clanswoman. And the Uchiha stand for each other, before Konoha, before their pride, before everything.

 _What a fine mess you’ve made for us,_ Mikoto, he ponders, though he’s not so far gone that he can pretend that it’s an entirely fair thought.

Almost as if summoned, he senses Mikoto approach the house. He turns, watching her arrive in a flurry of movement. She reaches the shogi doors and stops, eyeing him from the threshold.

"You’re here,” she says.

“You don’t sound very pleased,” Fugaku replies, crossing his arms.

“It can’t be helped. Imagine my surprise, running into Tojiro and learning he escorted you home.”

"Yes. What of it?"

"I visited you this morning, as I’ve always done. Why didn't you tell me anything then?"

"I knew you wouldn’t approve."

"Well, of course not! You just had major surgery, and you're not young anymore."

Fugaku flinches. "I fail to see what my age has anything to do with this."

"You're not recovering at the pace you used to. You could cause permanent damage to yourself."

"I’m aware. Hizashi explained it to me in gruesome detail."

"If Hizashi-sensei told you, then you know I'm right."

"Be that as it may, I wanted to be here when the custody trial begins."

Mikoto softens at that, the hard line of her mouth curving up. "Stubborn man," she says with some measure of fondness. "If you must insist."

She puts away her purse and coat, before walking slowly over. She kneels down beside him, and rests her brow on his shoulder. Fugaku takes this as permission to hold her and does so.

"I’m glad you’re here," Mikoto murmurs softly.

Fugaku simply pulls her closer to him, thumbing small circles on her back. She sighs. A minute passes, then two, then five. They say nothing, do nothing but watch the leaves rustling above them. The sun is an afterthought, dancing between the shadows. For the first time in a very long while, he knows peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The compound is eerily quiet, like the hush before a battle. He walks by several homes with the kitchen lights on and shadows seated around tables. There is the distinct sound of clinking cutlery, but not much else. He hears no laughter or noisy chatter. The entire clan is collectively holding their breaths. Kakashi feels his lungs ache in sympathy.
> 
> Then, he hears voices. It’s hard not to. The silence renders them loud and clear.
> 
> “Grandmother-”  
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11515461/chapters/27129237)


	10. Itty Bitty Piggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

At least the weather is cooperating. Warm sunshine blesses Training Ground 7, chosen by Minato for the Uchiha-Hyuuga custody hearing on a desperate moment of whimsy. Seven is supposed to be a lucky number, no? Regardless, the area is about equidistant from the Hyuuga and Uchiha’s lands, and boasts a clearing conveniently bordered by thick forests where the Root members can hide. As if seizing control over the Kumo affairs isn’t enough, Danzo also sees fit to graciously spare some men for the proceedings. His faith in Minato is truly humbling.

Kushina has sealed a huge oak conference table for the proceedings. At its head sits Minato in full Hokage robes, trying his best to look serene and in charge. Kushina sits beside him, long red hair braided away from her face and wearing a standard jounin uniform. She wanders the village in loose dresses more often than not since Naruto’s birth, so the uniform sends a clear message: if it comes down to it, she will break bones. Hound is lurking behind Minato, not-quite hiding, but keeping to the shadows cast by the trees and wearing his mask.

Normally, he’d have both him and Crow acting as his bodyguards, but Shisui is somewhat personally involved with the upcoming trial. He sits lower at the table, several chairs away from the chosen Uchiha representative, Elder Rakshasha. There’s less than ten Uchiha, occupying the left side of the table. Minato spots Elder Rakshasha and two other elders that he doesn't know by name, Mikoto (dressed in mesh and armed, because the forest forbid she doesn’t send a message), Shisui, and Fugaku’s second in command in the police force.

In contrast, it seems like the entire Main Hyuuga family has invited itself along. Hiashi sits beside his mother with the most constipated scowl Minato has ever seen on his face. Assorted Hyuuga Main family members flank them, all with stony, aristocratic airs about them.  
This is going to be a mess, a total shit-show, to quote his wife. There’s no denying it. He felt more confident facing the entire eastern battalion of Iwa. But then, winning is easy; governing is harder. Minato might as well get this over with. He draws in a steadying breath and rises to his feet. The Uchiha fall silent. The Hyuuga become stiffer.

“We all know why we're here,” he starts, eyeing each person at the table. He feels a distinct kinship with a school marm disciplining some unruly students. It’s not an off description, given the current circumstances. “Uchiha Sasuke has a Byakugan, and it’s turned all of you into fools.”

Elder Rakshasha snorts.

Minato ignores her. “You’re taking my attention from trivial matters like the continued management of this village, and the war with Kumo. I am less than amused, and demand that you come to an agreement at once. This hearing is an opportunity to discuss the matter and resolve it with minimal involvement from me. Take advantage of it. Lady Honoka, you have the floor.”

Minato had hoped that letting the Hyuuga speak first would dispel the notion that he favors the Uchiha, but the haughty look that Honoka shoots him indicates that she would be satisfied with nothing less than his lips at her toes. It ruffles Minato’s feathers more than he expects; he should be used to elders underestimating and dismissing him. Perhaps it’s because Honoka isn't that old, or that he’s still smarting about Danzo all but taking over the conflict against Kumo.

“For generations,” Honoka starts, “my clan has guarded Konoha’s borders, scanned the world for tactical intelligence, and provided medical support both in the field and in Konoha’s hospital and clinics. We have done so at quite the bargain-”

 _Our coffers would say otherwise_ , Minato thinks.

“-and for the right to protect our bloodline and handle our family affairs as we see fit.” She pauses, as if waiting for some effect.

Minato’s eyes pass over the long table. The other Hyuuga maintain their militant posture. The Uchiha slouch further. Minato half-expects them to start sighing and rolling their eyes.

“Now,” continues Honoka, “we find that our neighbor clan, a clan that also has a doujutsu to protect, has stolen our bloodline. To add insult to injury, they presume to keep the resultant child under our noses, as if they have nothing to be ashamed of. No one with the slightest claim to reason and dignity can expect the Hyuuga to stand for this. We demand that Sasuke be surrendered to the Hyuuga and our customs. He must be sealed, and we will fight to see it so.”

Great. If the civilian is promising war, Minato can't wait to see what Rakshasha promises. His eyes slide over to her as she stands up with exaggerated effort, fingers gripping her cane tightly. She’s Honoka’s polar opposite: short and stodgy, dressed in shapeless black pants and a loose navy shirt with an Uchiha fan sown on the back. Her cotton-white hair is thinning, and the crevasses of her wrinkles deepen as she smirks. Only the set of dark purple beads wrapped around her snowy-white hair give her an air of femininity.

“I’m gonna let those unfair aspersions towards my granddaughter slide,” says Rakshasha. “And just remind the Hyuuga, our esteemed Yondaime-sama, and Danzo’s skulking cronies, that Uchiha Sasuke may have a Byakugan, but both his mother and brother possess the Sharingan. He is a carrier of the Uchiha bloodline, yet our neighbors demand that we turn him over, like it was our clansman who strayed.”

“A child’s father decides their heritage,” interjects Honoka.

Mikoto’s nose scrunches up, like she smells something bad. Hiashi looks her way, scowl intensifying.

“Not among the Uchiha,” says Rakshasha, before Minato can make admonishments about interruptions. “Sasuke is of Mikoto’s womb, and Mikoto is happily married to Fugaku. That makes Fugaku Sasuke’s father, and we have the documents to prove it.”

“Your cuckold clan head can call himself the father all he likes,” says Honoka, “as long as the boy is properly sealed.”

“Alright, there’s no need to get crass,” says Minato, surprised that it’s not Rakshasha who’s whipping out the lurid insults first. The Hyuuga must know they're at a disadvantage.

“A son of the Uchiha head family enslaved?” says Rakshasha, ignoring the interruption. “You’ll see snow in Suna before you see that. Nevertheless...” Rakshasha beams, making Minato’s eyebrow twitch. “We Uchiha are nothing if not reasonable, generous, and accommodating.”

The Uchiha police officer at the table snorts. Minato rolls his eyes. The Hyuuga all glare in unison.

“Through no fault of our own,” continues Rakshasha, “we’ve introduced the Byakugan to our bloodline. For the sake of inter-clan harmony and Konoha’s safety, we are willing to surrender one Uchiha clansman to the Hyuuga clan. That way both clans get both doujutsu, and we can put this sordid affair behind us. No Caged Bird Seal for our clansman’s line, of course.”

“You mock us,” says Honoka. “As if your pride would ever let you surrender the Sharingan.”

“Our family is more than a doujutsu,” says Rakshasha. “A concept that would escape people who would enslave their children over some special eyeballs.”

“Oh?” Honoka smirks. “Pretending you care little for your stock now? What if we were to ask for your best? What if we want Uchiha Shisui?”

This is going south faster than Minato had expected.

Rakshasha shrugs. “I’d hardly call him our best, but sure. He can marry one of you tomorrow.”

“ _What_.” Shisui’s voice cuts through the sudden eruption of noise around the table. The elder sitting next to him slaps his shoulder and he bites his lower lip, face red and gaze furious, while Honoka glares. The rest of the Hyuuga falter for the first time, looking among themselves as though they have no idea how to react.

“You know we cannot accept such a deal,” says Honoka. “Leaving an entire line unsealed would undermine our relationship with the Branch family. Your offer is not made in good faith.”

“That sounds like a personal Hyuuga problem that we have nothing to do with,” says Rakshasha. She turns to Minato and smirks until the lines of her weathered face seem as deep as canyons. “Hokage-sama, you see now that it is the Hyuuga who put their pettiness ahead of the village’s safety. They act like we cannot protect Sasuke, yet they couldn’t protect their precious bloodline from one of their own.”

“Do not hold my entire clan responsible for the actions of one traitor,” says Honoka. “We will find him, and he will be dealt with.”

“Oh.” Rakshasha turns her vicious smirk on Honoka. “Are you so sure of that? I could even tell you which clansman it was, as a sign of good will.”

“Don’t patronize me,” says Honoka. “I’ll know by the end of the day who it was, and he will be dead by tomorrow.”

Somehow, Rakshasha’s smirk becomes more pronounced. “Oho. Is that so? Even if I were to say it’s your son? Not the one sitting next to you. The useful one. He works at the hospital, I believe.”

This proclamation casts a spell of silence over the table that lasts as long as a leisurely breeze. Honoka’s face freezes, but the shocked expression on Hiashi’s face betrays her surprise. If he doesn’t know, then neither did she.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Shisui cuts through the muted shock around the table. “Can we back up to you deciding to marry me off to the Hyuuga clan?”

That’s all it takes for the talks to go straight to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “That coulda gone better,” Kushina says, stepping into their home.
> 
> They just got back from the trial. It had taken forever to calm everyone down. It was clear no more progress would be made. They agreed to reconvene when tempers are (hopefully) cooler.
> 
> “I’m just happy nobody died,” Minato replies. He heads straight for the couch, collapsing onto it.
> 
> “Yet,” she adds.
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11885112/chapters/27323586)


	11. Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiashi and Hizashi talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Honoka tries to appease their cousins, to keep them calm by questioning Rakshasha’s goodwill. “She means to sink us into chaos, the wretched old bat,” she says, while Main family members calmly demand Hizashi’s head on a platter. Hiashi is surprised that he isn't surprised. He isn't much of anything.  
  
“We will wait to dole out punishment until after this trial is over,” he says.  
  
White eyes turn to him.  
  
Hiashi’s eyes scan the Main Hyuuga dojo, waiting for the flutter of uncertainty that always shakes him when he addresses his family. He has been the Hyuuga Clan head for a year, and never before has his voice sounded so firm to his own ears.  
  
“Whether it’s true or not that Hizashi is the father,” - it’s true - “doesn't change that we are in the middle of an ugly feud with our neighbors. They will use anything we do as evidence that we are unstable as a clan.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Unless you are all suggesting that we do nothing?” Several pairs of eyes narrow. “I suppose we can argue that we are benevolent if Hizashi is not punished.”  
  
“Absurd,” says one the older cousins, the one who would have been Clan Head if not for Honoka’s interference. “No one with sense would fault a clan for punishing a traitor as base as Hizashi.”  
  
There’s no point in defending Hizashi. “Really?” Hiashi raises an eyebrow, banking that his resemblance to Honoka will make him look suitably haughty. “You cannot imagine Elder Rakshasha in trial, lamenting that our ways drive accomplished, discipline shinobi to madness, and that we resort to vicious punishment when it does?”  
  
“And if we do nothing, she will argue that we are weak,” says another cousin. “That we pretend to honor our customs but the man most responsible for the insult to us goes about his business as though he has done nothing wrong.”  
  
Yes, Elder Rakshasha has set quite the trap. Hiashi would almost admire her for it, but she had put zero effort into it. Hizashi had delivered the winning weapon to her wrapped in a bow.  
  
“We still do not know for sure that it was Hizashi who impregnated the Uchiha whore,” says Honoka, tone as pleasant as if they were discussing the weather. “I am the one arguing this case before the Yondaime-”  
  
“-and you're doing so admirably-”  
  
“-and I refuse to hand Rakshasha another weapon,” continues Honoka, ignoring the interruption. “If we punish Hizashi without proof that he is the father, she will gloat in trial, and probably declare that she lied in the first place. Even if she told the truth, she would pretend to have lied.”  
  
“Then what do you propose we do?”  
  
The question is not for Hiashi, but he answers anyway. “We wait until Sasuke is in our custody, and then have the hospital do the appropriate tests. It’s the only way to ensure that we don't punish the wrong man.”  
  
It’s hardly the most decisive of moves, but no one brings any better ideas to the table. Hiashi watches his cousins shuffle out grumbling among themselves and shooting furtive glances Honoka’s way. They still don't consider him their leader, and Hiashi admits that he has given them little reason to do so.  
  
“Hizashi is undoubtedly the father,” says Honoka, once they are alone.  
  
“Yes,” agrees Hiashi.  
  
They have nothing else to say to each other. Honoka returns to her studio and Hiashi stays in the dojo. He means to meditate, but he’s no good at it. Hizashi never managed to teach him. He’s not sure how much time he wastes before a flurry of energy overtakes him and leads him to Konoha General.  
  
The civilian manning Information in the lobby is not impressed with his Byakugan, nor with his title. She seems confused that he wants to see a specific medic, and doesn’t care that they are family. Hiashi considers throwing his weight around, almost does so, but something reminds him that he has a calm facade to maintain. For once, it’s not Honoka’s voice.  
  
Hiashi ignores the civilian and pretends that he needs the bathroom. From there, it’s easy enough to follow signs to the surgical floor. No one stops him to ask who he is or what he's doing. He supposes that a Byakugan has certain privileges in Konoha. Eventually, he runs into a young Branch member who works in the hospital.  
  
“Sir, what are you doing here?”  
  
“I need to speak to my brother at once.”  
  
“He’s in surgery.” The girl looks apologetic, but she doesn't scramble to get him what he asked for. “If you like, you can wait for him in the On Call room. It’s gonna be a long wait, though.”  
  
She leads him to a sparse room with a set of bunkbeds, sickly-yellow lighting, and one small desk facing a greenish wall. The stink of ammonia and antiseptic permeates the air. Hiashi sits on the bottom bunk and finds that he can't straighten up without hitting the back of his head on the top bunk. Cursing, he lies supine on the bed, gaze fixed on the door. Seconds tick by in agonizing slowness.  
  
Out of order, memories of Hizashi flit through his mind. The time he rescued an injured bird and their father smashed it with a bottle because its chirping made his hangover headache worse. The time their father broke his arm because he got annoyed that Hizashi wouldn't scream under an active seal. When their mother forced him to marry a rich merchant’s daughter fifteen years older than him. And so on. Which insult had turned Hizashi into a traitor?  
  
Hizashi doesn't look surprised to see him when he opens the door to the little room, hours later. The Branch girl must have warned him. Of what, Hiashi can't guess. Unless all the Branch members know what Hizashi has done. Hiashi stares at him, trying read some expression in his own face. He fails. He always does.  
  
He stands up, bracing himself for another failure. “Rakshasha told us,” says Hiashi. "She wasn't lying... Was she?"  
  
“No.” He doesn't even bother to ask what about.  
  
“Are you going to explain yourself?”  
  
“I can tell you the truth,” says Hizashi. “It’s not much of an explanation.”  
  
“Go ahead.”  
  
“About four years ago,” starts Hizashi, “we had a small outbreak of viral meningitis in the Academy. Uchiha Itachi caught a mild strain. I never thought he would die, but meningitis can go south fast, so I didn't say as much to Uchiha Mikoto and Fugaku. I made the right noise about a guarded prognosis. They didn't take it well. I guess you could say their marriage is - or was - shaky, at the time.”  
  
“Or maybe it was all a ploy.” It wouldn't be the first time someone tries to seduce a clansman in hopes of getting a kekkei genkai, albeit in a very slow method.  
  
“I considered that,” says Hizashi. “I didn't care.”  
  
“Wonderful.”  
  
“Anyway,” continues Hizashi, as though it’s an inconsequential detail. “Uchiha Fugaku didn't visit much, but Mikoto was glued to Itachi’s bedside. I was the boy’s attending jounin and had no resident to spare, so I came to check on him once a day. That was around the time my wife died.”  
  
“So, what?” Impatience gnaws at Hiashi’s belly. “You sought refuge in Uchiha Mikoto’s arms?”  
  
“You know better than that. I hated my wife. To this day, I thank the spirits that she died before Neji got a chance to know her.”  
  
“Then why?” demands Hiashi. He’s afraid he knows the reason, but he wants Hizashi to say it.  
  
“I”m getting to that,” says Hizashi, all but rolling his eyes. “About five days after I admitted Itachi, I was comfortable enough to tell Mikoto that he would survive. I probably could've told her days before that, but Itachi was maybe the third or fourth patient I managed alone, and I lacked confidence.”  
  
“Hizashi, I don't care about your professional growth.”  
  
“No, I don't suppose you do,” says Hizashi. Unease boils in Hiashi’s throat. “The night I told Mikoto that Itachi would survive, she hugged me. That wouldn't have been so strange. Mothers often hug me when I save their kids.”  
  
“Uchiha Mikoto is a jounin.” Hiashi might throw up before this conversation is done. There’s no way Hizashi had been tricked into a clandestine tryst. Not against his will.  
  
“Yeah, that was unusual. Still...” He shrugs. “I allowed it, which was a mistake. I probably shouldn't have permitted such liberties. That was the night I found out my wife had killed herself, so I guess I was frozen with happiness.”  
  
“So you got her pregnant with a hug?”  
  
“Obviously, I fucked her,” says Hizashi, flatly. “I’m getting to that.”  
  
“Get there faster.”  
  
Hizashi waves a hand vaguely. “So Mikoto hugged me, and I let her. Then when she pulled back, she kissed me. That surprised me. I think I literally froze. She pulled back and started to apologize, and then...” Finally, Hizashi looks directly at Hiashi.  
  
Hiashi hadn't even noticed that his brother had been avoiding his gaze. Not consciously.  
  
“I guess I saw my whole life flash before my eyes,” says Hizashi.  
  
“And somehow you failed to come to your senses because...?”  
  
“Do you even know what I saw?”

“You’re about to tell me.”

Hizashi gifts him with a look. “I saw my entire life with a seal branded on my brow. The same seal on Neji and on his son, and on his son after. But when I looked at Mikoto, she carried no such mark…” Hizashi draws in a deep shuddering breath. “No decision in my life has ever been so clear before or since. I leaned forward and kissed her. And then...well, I don't suppose you want details of the actual copulation.”  
  
“That’s it?!”

“You don’t understand-”

“I can’t believe-”

“-what it’s like!”

“-you threw away your life-"

“You just don’t get it!”

“-for what? A chance to fuck her?”  
  
“IT WASN’T ABOUT HER!” Hizashi roars, taking a step closer. “It was about me. I realized that was the only chance I would ever get. Unless it turned out that she really was just after the Byakugan, but I couldn't be sure of that. Maybe she really was just a distressed mother.”  
  
“Only chance for what?”  
  
“To show the Hyuuga that they don't own me.” His voice doesn't rise and his face remains blank, but he swallows thickly.  
  
“Hizashi, you’re one of us.” One of the best of them. He has to see that.  
  
“I’m one of your slaves.”  
  
“No..." Hiashi shakes his head.

It's true that Hizashi had been asked to make sacrifices for the clan. But who among them had not been asked to make sacrifices?

Hiashi clears his throat, continuing, “You just- You just had a moment of weakness. That's all. Otherwise you would have... betrayed us with other women. You're certainly beautiful enough-”  
  
“Don't be conceited; it has nothing to do with our looks,” interrupts Hizashi.  
  
Hiashi blinks, momentarily confused. They look identical, yes. But only in the most superficial fashion.  
  
“Very few women would risk getting pregnant by a Hyuuga clansman,” continues Hizashi. “Besides, I'm bitter. Not crazy or stupid.”  
  
“What do you mean?” He’s sounding pretty crazy to Hiashi. Alarmingly so.  
  
“Even if I found women to have my children, I would've been caught in a matter of weeks,” says Hizashi. “It’s not like it’s easy. Do you know the chances of getting women pregnant in one sexual encounter? They're low. Until a few months ago, I wasn't even sure Sasuke was mine.”  
  
“So you haven't transgressed with Mikoto since that one time.” For the first time, Hiashi lets hope bloom in his chest. It’s easier to beg for leniency for one transgression.  
  
“Three times, one sexual encounter,” says Hizashi.  
  
Hiashi rolls his eyes.  
  
“But no,” adds Hizashi. “I hadn't even spoken to Mikoto until Orochimaru almost killed Fugaku and he ended up as my patient.”  
  
“And no other women since?” Hiashi has to be sure. He ignores a thought that Hizashi might lie.  
  
“I told you, even if I’d managed to get anyone else pregnant, the clan would've found her, killed her, killed me, and taken the child,” Hizashi says with a sneer. “It would've been pointless.”  
  
“And you think this wasn't? Do you think...what?” Hiashi runs his hands through his hair. “That the Uchiha will rescue the Branch from the heinous chains of the Caged Bird Seal? They only care about their boy.”  
  
“Oh, I expected as much,” Hizashi says, airily. “It’ll have to be enough. Like I said, I’m only a rebellious, bitter slave. If trouble is all I can cause, I accept it.”  
  
“What about Neji?”  
  
Hizashi almost rears back, but he catches himself and smirks. “Yes, what about him? He better hope that Hinata doesn't take after her grandfather.”  
  
"You are prepared to die." He has to be if he’s talking about Neji like that.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You are prepared to die for siring a bastard. Why?"  
  
"Because I knew the Uchihas will fight you,” says Hizashi. “They already are. They will fight you all the way down, even if it means taking the village down with them. They will render Konoha and the Hyuuga to cinders before they let anyone touch them and theirs. And in that, I have my victory. My life is worth that twice over."  
  
And really. Hiashi has no reply for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong. This morning, the Main family went to see the Hokage. They were gone for hours. It had something to do with the Uchiha. When Kosuke-ji-san came back, he looked really worried. His brow was all wrinkled, and he frowned a lot. He told Ko-nii to keep him and Hinata-sama out of sight.
> 
> Which is stupid, Neji thinks. They have the Byakugan. They can't be out of sight.
> 
>  
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11365314/chapters/27740166)


	12. Sandcastles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, with the Uchiha...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02)for beta-reading this.

From day one, Mikoto was too young and uninterested in Fugaku. She had been a rising star of a kunoichi, with aspirations of joining the army’s commanders and making a name for herself. Fugaku had loved her almost from the moment he laid eyes on her, at the time taken mostly by her poise, humility, and - no need to sugarcoat it in the privacy of his own mind - her bust-to-waist ratio and well-shaped ass. And he convinced himself that with time, Mikoto would grow to love him back. She probably only thought she wanted the life of a high-ranking combat jounin, or so Fugaku had assured himself. And in all fairness to himself, what jounin made it past thirty without a textbook of neuroses to their name?  
  
Fugaku’s father had probably been taken by the rumored strength of Mikoto’s Sharingan. Whatever the reason, he had accepted Fugaku’s choice of bride, and so Fugaku and Mikoto had been married by the end of that very same summer. Privately, Fugaku swears that his father had ceded some secret or other to Rakshasha, as the old bat remains the only person who can cow Mikoto into doing anything. 

Regardless of how it came to be, Fugaku and Mikoto’s marriage had been shaky from the start. Mikoto had not been particularly kind during their first night together, even though Fugaku had confessed that he had never managed to get over his disinterest in men long enough to get some sexual experience beyond his own hand. He’d been a quick learner in that regard.   
  
Or maybe not. It’s not like Sasuke had been conceived during the early months, or even early years, of their marriage.  
  
Fugaku had pulled Hyuuga Hiro’s public files shortly after learning that Sasuke’s eyes would never darken, and the thought that had all but exploded in him had been _Really, him?_ Hiro had been close to Fugaku’s age when he died, a Branch member with a pug nose, thin lips, and thinning hair. Fugaku had thought, somewhat unkindly, that Sasuke better hope he didn't take after his dad. The man’s record had not revealed impressive skills, wit, or remarkable bravery either. The most glowing comment in his official reviews had been, “He’s punctual.” No teammate had ever bothered to add anything unofficial.   
  
It’s stupid, but finding out that Mikoto’s lover had been a random man, probably the first one who crossed her path, had reassured Fukagu. It hadn't been some star-crossed lovers’ affair, but a moment of rage and weakness during Itachi’s sudden illness those few years ago. Fugaku had been a coward during that hellish week Itachi spent in the hospital, at death’s door thanks to a sporadic case of meningitis. Perhaps if he’d had the fortitude to stay by his wife’s side as she waited by their son’s near-deathbed, Sasuke would have black eyes, and they wouldn't be on the brink of civil war.  
  
Fugaku reminisces until mid-afternoon, strangely calm despite the situation. There’s not much else he can do, with everyone gone to the hearing. Sasuke is still at the Uzumaki house. Itachi has been returned to the mission roster, a timely thing. He suspects the negotiations will end explosively, and he’d rather not have the boy witness the fallout.   
  
The Uchiha will at least attempt to defuse the situation. His family is open to the idea of a trade, content that they are getting the Byakugan out of the ordeal even if it means the Sharingan won't be their exclusive dojutsu for much longer. They’re fair, perhaps too fair for a ninja clan. Besides, for generations to come, the Uchiha will be gloating to their Hyuuga cousins that they managed to steal their precious Byakugan and then kindly bestowed the Sharingan upon them for Konoha’s sake. Smiling, Fugaku gets up and heads back to his house.   
  
He’s relieved that he hasn't needed to catch his breath all afternoon despite his dark thoughts. Unfortunately, the relief lasts as long as it takes him to get back to the house. Hurried voices reach him as he opens the back door. It’s Shisui, which means that the hearing is over.   
  
"Look, Aunt,” Shisui is saying, rushed and almost out of breath, “you may be fine with banging a Hyuuga, but I'd like to have more options."  
  
Fugaku blinks as he enters, looking at the clansmen clustered in his kitchen. "I take it negotiations went well?"  
  
"Oh, quit your griping, boy.” Rakshasha ignores Fugaku altogether, and by this point, Fugaku can't muster the energy to be rankled by her dismissal. “You should be flattered. Apparently, they think _you’re_ our best. And here I thought the Byakugan was all-seeing." 

Rakshasha huffs, puttering around the cupboards under the sink, undoubtedly looking for something to drink.  
  
"It went swell," Mikoto replies shortly. "Grandmother, the sake is on the top shelf."  
  
"Ah,” says Rakshasha, turning to Shisui. “Boy, I can't reach. Get it for me."  
  
"You can't just decide this!" protests Shisui.   
  
Rakshasha raises her chin imperiously. "Last I checked, the clan elected me to represent our case. Not some snub-nosed brat."  
  
Fugaku is almost afraid to ask. He rubs his temples. "What... happened?"  
  
"Grandmother elected for the trade,” says Mikoto, walking over.  She pulls down the bottle, and puts out the cups. She hands one to Rakshasha, taking one herself. She pours them both a drink.  
  
“That’s the ticket,” Rakshasha says, oddly content. She raises her cup, a glint in her eye. “Kanpai!”  
  
Fugaku is missing something here. He narrows his eyes. “So then, an Uchiha will marry into the Hyuuga family. We knew this was a possibility.”  
  
Mikoto sets down the bottle. “Yes, well. Grandmother volunteered Shisui for the job."  
  
"This isn't fair!" shouts Shisui. Fugaku has never heard him sound so much like a child, much as he sympathizes with the boy.   
  
Oh well. Fugaku has bigger problems on his plate. Like whatever has Mikoto so spooked. She won't look at him. Mikoto has kept her gaze elsewhere - on her hands, on the wall, but never on him. He frowns.  
  
"I sure hope that isn't news to you,” Rakshasha tells Shisui. “Life is shit and then you die. Deal with it."  
  
"Did anything else happen?" Fugaku asks.  
  
"Aunt, please reason with her! She can't just do as she pleases!"  
  
"Elder Rakshasha is working in the best interests of the clan," Mikoto says, not quite sounding like she believes it herself. She gulps down a swig that would make a sailor proud, then she reaches for a second cup.  
  
"Oh, is that how this is going to go?" Shisui says, walking to stand in front of Mikoto. His face is red and his wide nose flaring.   
  
Fugaku almost tells him to shut up, certain as he is that Shisui is about to say something he’ll regret, but he wants to know what happened at the hearing that’s keeping Mikoto from looking at him.   
  
"She can do whatever she wants. And you - you can do _whoever_ you want. But I have to pay the price?” Shisui continues. “This is all because you slept with Hyuuga Hizashi! And I have to-"  
  
"You what."  
  
All sound flees the general vicinity. Shisui freezes, looking between him and Mikoto. Rakshasha, the vindictive old bat, leans against the counter, settling in like she’s about to watch her favorite show.  
  
Mikoto sighs, still not looking at him. “I’m fairly sure Shisui made it clear.”  
  
“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Fugaku hobbles closer. “I want to hear you say it.”  
  
“Shisui, drink with me,” Rakshasha barks out, taking the sake bottle out of Mikoto’s hand.   
  
“I don’t…” Shisui says, slowly backing away. “This doesn’t seem like the best time.”  
  
“Nonsense! This is exactly when you should get right and properly drunk. The sake is very good. You might as well get something out of this.”  
  
“It was a gift,” Mikoto murmurs. “Akimichi Chunhua thanked me for saving her niece on a mission. Another cup, if you please.”  
  
“Mikoto,” Fugaku spits out through grit teeth. “You slept with who, exactly?”  
  
There’s a moment of complete stillness, where time seems to freeze. Then Mikoto straightens up like a woman about to face her execution squad. She wipes her lips on the back of her hand and whips around to face Fugaku, finally looking him in the eyes.  
  
“Hyuuga Hizashi, a jounin of Konohagakure, a surgeon at Konoha Central, and the twin brother of the Hyuuga clan head, Hyuuga Hiashi,” she announces, with a grand wave of her arm. “What else do you want to know? Huh? Maybe I should tell you the size of his dick!”  
  
Fugaku splutters, feeling his face flush.  
  
“How big was it?” Rakshasha asks. She knocks back a swig of sake before pushing the bottle into Shisui’s hands.  
  
“Eh, alright. Seen better. Seen worse.”  
  
Hearing this, Shisui reddens to the tips of his ears. He hastily fumbles a sip of the sake. “Oh god. I did not need to know that.”  
  
“Do you think this is some sort of joke?!” Fugaku roars, finally regaining his wits. He has a stray thought about his lungs, which only makes him angrier. “Have you, what? Been laughing behind my back this whole time? You and Hizashi?! All this time! He was my surgeon! We just- He and I- _In the same room_! And you knew! I bet it was all very funny to you!”   
  
“I never said that!” Mikoto shouts back.  
  
“You never said anything! Kept your mouth shut while Sasuke’s father traipsed around next door!” Fugaku falters, a thousand possibilities flooding his brain. “Oh god. How long have you been sleeping with him? Are you still sleeping with him? He’s been right there. All along, he’s been right there. It would be so easy to sneak off and- and- and…”  
  
“The word you are looking for,” Rakshasha cuts in, “is fuck.”  
  
Fugaku makes a noise like a dying heater.  
  
“Grandmother, just take the bottle and leave. You too, Shisui.”  
  
“But, the arrangement- I haven’t-” Shisui protests.  
  
“OUT!” screams Mikoto.  
  
Shisui hastily forms a seal and demonstrates how he earned his title, Shunshin no Shisui.   
  
Rakshasha huffs, setting down her cup, but keeping the bottle in hand. “No need to yell. I’m old, but I’m not deaf.”  
  
She struts to the door. They both wait for her to exit the house, listening for her footsteps out on the street. When they are certain Rakshasha has left, Mikoto and Fugaku share a look.   
  
He can see the defiance in her, glinting like sunlight on steel. It comes with an implied threat. This is how he fell in love. The thought opens up a chasm in his chest, aching and raw.   
  
“Once, Fugaku. I only slept with him once,” Mikoto tells him, every syllable weighted.  
  
“And you expect me to believe that?” Fugaku says, stepping towards her. “That one instance of your tryst not only resulted in your pregnancy, but also in a child with the Hyuuga bloodline? For all we know, the Uchiha gene is dominant.”  
  
“Or perhaps Hyuuga men are exceedingly virile and they do have a damn good reason for that cursed seal,” Mikoto snaps back. “I don’t know the exact probability of this exact scenario happening. But it did happen. I didn’t tell you because for all I knew, it was your kid. But then, Sasuke was born with grey eyes that never darkened, and… Well…”  
  
“You still didn’t tell me. Why?”  
  
“It wasn’t important for you to know precisely who I slept with. You only needed to know of my indiscretion. Which I did admit to. You’ve known ever since Sasuke was born!”  
  
“But you lied to me about the father! You said it was some long-dead Hyuuga! Were you ever going to tell me?"  
  
“Why do you need to know? It could have been Hyuuga Hiro for all it matters!”  
  
“Because you lied! You lied right to my face!”  
  
“Because I didn’t want this! I didn’t want you storming over and picking a fight with Hizashi!”  
  
“Oh, but it’s fine if his twin picks a fight with us?”  
  
“Admittedly, this isn’t my ideal scenario.”  
  
“And what, pray tell, is your ideal scenario? How could you sleeping with him not turn into an outright disaster?”  
  
Mikoto doesn’t answer. She looks off to the side.  
  
Fugaku snorts, chuckling wryly. “You don’t have a clue, do you? All you’ve been doing is lying to yourself. Pretending you could keep your dirty little secret indefinitely.”  
  
“I was tired!” Mikoto yells, grabbing fistfuls of her hair. “I was desperate! I saw a way to deny the inevitable, to delay this catastrophe, and I took it! That’s all! It was never to hurt you. That was never my intention. I was scared, alright?”  
  
“And, what? I’m supposed to pity you?”  
  
“No, I’m not- I just- I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”  
  
“Maybe you should have considered that when you slept with Hyuuga Hizashi!”  
  
“It was a mistake! I’m only human, Fugaku! I have needs, and you were off being a spineless coward! If you had been a better husband-”  
  
“You do not get to blame this on me!”  
  
“Can’t I? Where the hell were you?! Huh? When Itachi got sick, do you remember that? He was dying, and you weren’t there! Some fucking husband you were!”  
  
Fugaku crosses into a fury so blazing hot, it bleaches his thoughts white. There’s almost a sense of nirvana here, an absolution separating the mind and body. He can no longer feel or think. Everything is empty.  
  
“Leave,” he hears himself whisper.   
  
“What?” Mikoto asks, her expression contorting into confusion.   
  
All at once, it comes rushing back. Fugaku jabs a finger at the door. “Leave! I want you gone from my house!”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, this is also my house!”  
  
Fugaku spies the cup Rakshasha left behind. He grabs it and throws it at Mikoto. It smashes against the wall, splattering shards everywhere.  
  
“Do not. Make me. Say it. Again,” he says, panting. His lungs burn as if he’s swallowed a forest fire.   
  
Mikoto stares at him, incredulous. Then she smooths out her expression, eyeing him with great disdain. With a toss of her hair, she spins on her heel and heads out the door. Pausing at the threshold, she looks over her shoulder.  
  
“I knew you’d be irrational. This is precisely the reaction I was afraid of,” she huffs, walking out.  
  
What a fucking bitch. 


	13. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back with the Hyuuga. It's been a loooong day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Hiashi can’t remember. The fight started- How did the fight start? It happened so fast. They were in a small room - if it can be called that. It was more like a closet, four walls with a sliver of space in between. Hizashi was speaking- madness. It was pure madness. But it had such a conviction in it. And that was it, wasn’t it? Hiashi could only dream of such certainty, such willpower. In that moment, clarity came to him.   
  
He _hated_ Hizashi. More than Kumo, more than the Uchiha, more than their thrice-damned father, he hated Hizashi. It emptied him, skinned him of any sense or shock. It was absolute. It was unyielding. It was cold.  
  
Hiashi punched him. He remembers now. And his brother - the jounin, the surgeon, the rebel - outclassed him in every skill. But Hizashi took the punch. He looked Hiashi in the eyes as the fist connected with his cheek. And there was such a hunger - a need in his gaze. Hiashi felt the very same - this desire for contact. Words fail for this reason. They can’t split their skin on sound, can’t cut their teeth on talk.   
  
They ended up behind the hospital. He remembers the stench of refuse, pungent and choking. Or was it Hizashi choking him? Hiashi had bits of glass and plaster in his hair. He had been thrown out - through a window? Or a wall? He has bruises all along his spine. He presses one now, tasting the ache like candy stuck in the gums.   
  
Hizashi had him by the throat. They had fought. Hiashi had lost. Of course Hiashi would lose. It’s been decided since their birth. Hizashi would always be better - his poor, mad brother. This was how he’d die, he’d thought with a resigned certainty. The Seal had been an option, as always, but Hizashi proved capable of ignoring it. Hiashi had no chance.  
  
“Go on, then,” Hiashi had told him. “This is what you want, isn’t it? For the Hyuuga to burn? Start here. Kill me. Go on. Strike.”  
  
He’d been held against a tree. The hospital had stood before him. He’d seen faces peering out the windows, watching their fight. There’d been shouting, nurses rushing about. But they’d kept the fighting from harming anyone else. The only damage had been a hole in the first floor wall. Hizashi had thrown him out and away from the building, from the patients, from any bystanders. This moment had been theirs and theirs alone.  
  
With the bark digging against his scalp, Hiashi had watched a trickle of blood run down Hizashi’s chin. He’d taken note of every single mark left by his hand - bruises on the cheeks, ruptured tenketsu in the arms, a minor fracture in the ribs. He felt satisfied then. He wouldn’t die cowering.  
  
Except, Hiashi hadn’t died. The Yondaime had arrived with Uzumaki at his side. He had pushed Hizashi away, stepping between them. But even for all his famed speed, the Yondaime came too late. The moment had passed. And Hizashi had allowed it to. He’d done nothing. Hiashi could’ve been dead twice-over, but Hizashi simply looked at him.   
  
The fury, once a monsoon drowning out all thought, sputtered into silence. The Yondaime had said something, but Hiashi heard none of it. He forgot what happened next. He forgot a lot of things. In the aftermath, in the calm and quiet, it’s hard to remember what fury ever felt like. He only feels tired.  There’s nothing left in him. Exhaustion has settled deep into the hollows of his bones. He has no more marrow or blood. The hard clot of rage had been carved out from between his lungs. It no longer burned to breathe, and the air tasted of ash. He walks away, wandering from the hospital grounds. He doesn’t get very far.  
  
“Hiashi-san!”   
  
He looks up. It’s Uzumaki, and the Yondaime closely following her. He blinks at them.  “What do you want?”   
  
“To smooth out some edges,” she says, lips pulled tight, teeth bared. It’s an expression more fitting for a hungry fox than a woman.

“Leave me be. I don’t wish to speak right now,” Hiashi replies, turning away.

A hand catches his wrist in a steel-strong grip. “No,” he hears Uzumaki say. She tugs him around, getting him to face them once more.

“Kushina, it might be best to let him go,” the Yondaime murmurs.

“No, yanno what? I’ve had it up to here with this - this - all o’ this! We’re gonna settle it right here and now!”  
  
“Do you need a medic?” the Yondaime asks, speaking over his wife. “You might have suffered a concussion. The nurses tried to approach you, but…”  
  
He pushed them away. He vaguely remembers this. Shaking his head, Hiashi runs a hand through his hair.  
  
“I’m tired,” he says plainly, apropos of nothing.  
  
“You’re tired?!” Uzumaki explodes. “You think you’re tired?! You just about turned this village upside down, makin’ a mess for everyone else to deal with, and _you’re_ tired? Well, Hiashi, so are we! Ain’t that so, Minato?”

“It’s been a trying couple of weeks.”

“You think I want this?” demands Hiashi, taking a step closer to her. “Hizashi is my brother, and he’s gone mad. He’s left me between an exploding tag and a poisoned shuriken. I have no options-”  
  
“-You got many options,” Uzumaki says. “And the one you’re gonna take is this: take the Uchiha’s offer and stop a civil war.”  
  
“My clan will never accept it,” protests Hiashi. 

“Ain’t you the clan head?” Uzumaki sneers. “Act like it.”  
  
“Easy for you, a foreigner, to say that. You know not of what you speak,” says Hiashi. 

Her eyes widen, a furious flush flooding her face. “Hey, fuck you, buddy! Are you saying you have zero ideas? Too busy feeling sorry for yourself to come up with a solution?”   


“How long must this go on?” The Yondaime cuts in before he can respond. “Don’t you want this to end, Hiashi-san?” 

Hiashi turns to him, feeling as if some cartilage broke in his throat. He keeps thinking of Hizashi, how his brother stared, how his brother held his throat, how his brother didn’t squeeze. Everything looks pointless - this feud, their fight, the stinging cuts across his back. He’s forgetting the reason for it all.

“I do. I want this to end.” The words spill from his lips like pus from a punctured scab. He tastes copper and rust and relief.   
  
A pause. They say nothing.  
  
“I don’t want my family to die,” Hiashi continues. “My brother isn’t well. My daughter… My nephew… This can’t go on.”  
  
“What do you intend to do?”  
  
Hiashi looks at Minato. The man stares back, cold as ice.   
  
“If… If we took the deal. It would cause internal conflict within our clan. Surely you must see that. The Branch members will revolt if Uchiha Sasuke and his children are exempt from the seal. I don’t-”

“I can help with that. I can figure out a way to unseal the Branch members.” Uzumaki says, tossing her hair like she didn’t just suggest dismantling generations of family tradition. 

Hiashi gapes at her, reeling. “But… This is… Do you know what you ask of us? The foundation of our family will be destroyed. It will ruin us.”

“Oh, please,” she replies, rolling her eyes . “Hizashi just showed you- he just showed everybody- the Caged Bird Seal protects the Byakugan about as well as a broken condom.”  
  
Hiashi chuckles out a bitter, hollow sound. “Not many clansmen would be willing to die to prove a point.”  
  
“Well, what would you know? Huh? A man who’s always had freedom can’t appreciate its value.”  
  
“What freedom do you suppose I have?” Hiashi all but shouts the question. “The freedom to be pulled in a hundred directions? To watch my brother lose his mind? To see my village plunged into civil war over his actions?” 

“I’m assuming you don't want to go down in flames fighting the Uchiha,” the Yondaime says. “And the Branch Hyuuga are fond of you, considering you don't have any great love for the Caged Bird Seal.”  
  
“They... are?”  
  
The Yondaime blinks. “What?”  
  
Hiashi wets his lips. “The Branch Family is… fond of me?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Uzumaki spits out. “When you became Clan Head, you stopped people from abusing the Caged Bird Seal, am I right?”  
  
“The Seal was never meant for torture! It is a security measure. But no one listened,” he says sullenly.  
  
The Yondaime smiles at this. “Not true. It assured the Branch Family, at least.” 

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations on not being a _total_ asshole,” Uzumaki sneers, waving a dismissive hand.  
  
“It’s more than any Hyuuga clan head has ever done for them,” the Yondaime continues.  
  
“Literally the lowest bar of human decency…” Uzumaki mutters, rolling her eyes.. “Wouldn't it be easier to just get rid of the damned seal altogether?”   
  
“The Main Family won’t agree to such a solution.”

“Then - Then, fuck, I dunno! Tell them that they either take the Uchiha’s deal, or I’ll unseal all their current slaves!” says Uzumaki, crossing her arms.

“Can you really do that?” the Yondaime turns to her, surprise evident in his tone. 

“I’m a Sealing Master. No. I’m  _ the _ Sealing Master. Honestly, hon. Who do you think I am? You ain’t married to just some average girl, yanno?”

“Oh, I think you’re many things, but average isn’t one of them.” The Yondaime grins, with enough fondness to rot a tooth. Then he looks at looks at Hiashi again, and all buoyancy bleeds out of him. “This has to end. Jounin Uzumaki just offered us a solution.”

“We must yield… Is that it?” Hiashi asks, lowering his gaze.  
  
“And you may regret it. But at least you will live long enough to do so. If you push this, you’ll court war and death. There is nothing more final than that.” 

Hiashi says nothing. His thoughts are a tangled mess. He thinks of Hizashi, of a hand wrapped around his neck. He thinks of mercy, and the despair in his brother’s eyes. That’s what it was. Under all of it, the bravado, the madness, the conviction, Hizashi looked him in the eyes and desperately didn’t want this.   
  
“What are you willing to risk, Hiashi-san?” the Yondaime continues. “Would it be worth all this trouble? The Uchiha are offering a trade. They’re willing to pay for your leniency. Let’s end this.”  
  
“But we will live,” Hiashi murmurs, echoing the Yondaime’s words. He breathes out. Whatever happens. Whatever the cost. He wants them all to live.   
  
“Well?” Uzumaki asks, tapping her foot.  
  
“Come by tomorrow. We’ll finalize the decision then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hizashi can't control much in the world, but he has some measure of control over sickness. He's not so arrogant that he dares assume that his mastery is anything more than mild and fleeting, but it's better than nothing. Maybe. He has to believe that it is.
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11365314/chapters/28136889)


	14. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honoka is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

"You realize that by accepting the Uchiha's terms, you forfeit the clan's respect," Honoka says, after Hiashi tells her of his meeting with the Uzumakis.   
  
She’d looked at the blood on his kimono without comment. No questions, no comfort, no nothing. Honoka has nothing for them; certainly nothing for Hizashi.   
  
"Like the clan has any respect for me in the first place," Hiashi replies, walking down the hall.   
  
He activates his Byakugan - to scan for the children, no doubt. Honestly, he coddles them too much. There's nothing to be gained from shielding them. It's more likely to cause trouble down the road, really.   
  
Rolling her eyes, she follows Hiashi into his rooms. She doesn't wait for permission or his invitation. His wife notes them coming and scurries away, cowed as she is by Honoka. The way she should be. Honoka built this house with her own money. It took her years to save up the funds, hoarding every ryo from her sticky-fingered husband. She is the final authority within these halls. Hiashi lives here on her terms.   
  
She refuses to live under anyone's thumb ever again. She wasted the last of her youth married to a monster, all for the benefit of someone else.   
  
Her father had been a Hyuuga clansman of fortunate birth but unfortunate talent.  Her mother was the daughter of a daimyo by one of his mistresses. They had only been allowed to wed if none of their children became shinobi. It was a precautionary measure, in case misfortune fell upon the official heirs. It could put a shinobi in the direct line of succession, and that simply wasn't allowed.    
  
Her father agreed to the terms and simply made bigger plans for his grandchildren. His child could at least give him hearty grandchildren brimming with Hyuuga poise and vitality. This had been the extent of her worth, all she had ever been good for in his eyes.   
  
So her father married her off to Hyuuga Minoru. He had been a little too fond of sake even then. But he had talked smoothly and charmed her parents. Honoka could do nothing about it. She'd been a meek girl. It wasn't what she had wanted, of course. She had big dreams - different from those of her clan and its ninja, but dreams all the same.    
  
When she was little, she had visited the court and painted an amateur snapshot of a sakura tree in full blossom. The court had been delighted at her talent. Or, at least, they had pretended to be. But it was enough. Honoka had decided to become a renowned artist.    
  
Thinking she controlled her fate, she had been so foolishly naive. By her fifteenth birthday, she was engaged. Her mother had assured her that all she would have to do was give birth to, at most, two children. And as luck would have it, she got a set of twins on her very first try. Fate had smiled on her then, for once in her life.   
  
Except, Fate is a fickle mistress. Perhaps it has been laughing at her this whole time. She thinks so whenever she catches Hizashi's eyes. Her second born, the only one with any sort of spine.   
  
Hizashi learned to take torture with dignity, to give up dreams and ambitions with poise, and to rip victories from the jaws of defeat. Hizashi hates the Cage Bird Seal - logically so - and so has torn apart every justification for its use. It will cost him his life, but Honoka knows he doesn't care.   
  
In direct contrast, Hiashi is meek, with little endurance for hardship. She blames the fools of her clan, who coddled him as a child, eager as they were to brownnose the future clan head. They'd given Hiashi everything he ever asked for. In this clash between the clans, it’s no wonder he flinched first.   
  
Hiashi pauses before his bedroom, and turns to face her. "I'm accepting Rakshasha's offer," he repeats.   
  
"You cannot," says Honoka. "Not without abolishing the Caged Bird Seal altogether."   
  
"Then that's what I will do."   
  
"The clan will never stand for it," says Honoka, still calm as the sea on a sunny day. But there are clouds on the horizon. “They will challenge your authority.”

"If I don't do this, the Uchiha will fight us to the last member, and Kumo will smell blood in the water," says Hiashi.    
  
"Your cousins will  _ never _ stand for it," repeats Honoka.   
  
"They'll have to," says Hiashi. "They either bow to me, or they'll bow to Konoha's army. The rest of the clan heads will side with the Hokage and the Uchiha. We either yield, or we die. I refuse to die."   
  
"Have the Hyuuga fallen so out of favor?" she wonders aloud.   
  
Hiashi looks pained. "Maybe so. But how can we fight it? What other choice do we have?"   
  
“Cornered like rats.”   
  
Honoka laughs, an empty, seethrough sound. She looks around, at the floors made of the finest oak, at the walls made of the smoothest pine. She turns and spies the vintage rugs from Suna, the porcelain vases from Iwa, the embroidered drapes from Kusa. She notes every inch, every detail, every ornament bought, built, and born by her carefully-plotted desires. This house is a testament to her wealth, and the power she wields.    
  
Decades later, she has still learned nothing. Fate takes, and it takes, and it takes. She can no more fight it than she can stop the tide from rising. Her money only provided an illusion of control. She is still the girl listening to her father announce her engagement.   
  
“I would rather be a cornered rat any day than die a dog’s death,” Hiashi tells her.   
  
Honoka considers it. She watches Hiashi stand before her, shoulders trembling, fists clenched, but chin firmly lifted. There is perhaps some merit to being weaker. Hizashi is strong, but look where it has led them. Surrender can have dignity. They will seem wiser for it.   
  
She breathes in. "Hizashi will need to be executed. Before the trial reconvenes."

It’s the price of being strong, she supposes. They pave the way, forge paths, take the first steps. They also die first. 

Hiashi grits his teeth. "But... what does that help? That boy will still exist, and with the Byakugan."

"You intend to accept the trade agreement, yes?” 

“I-”

“Then you will need a distraction. Or the Main family will riot.”

His mouth tightens, eyes narrowing. “Does the execution have to be so soon?” 

“Don't be foolish," says Honoka. "You are abolishing the very foundation of this clan. Your cousins will be furious. We must appease them somehow. Hizashi's corpse on a platter will be the least of their demands."   
  
"He's your son."   
  
"And your brother," Honoka reminds him. "Is his life worth more than your daughter's?"   
  
“Clearly, I should follow your example,” Hiashi tells her, snarling. “What do you know? You left me and my brother at the mercy of a madman! That was the start of this! Hizashi was driven crazy by our father!”   
  
“Don’t you yell at me! Who do you think you are? Yelling at me like I’m a common maid! You watch your tone!”   
  
“You did nothing!”   
  
“And what could I have done?!”   
  
“You could have protected us like a mother would!”   
  
Honoka feels the air leave her lungs. She gapes at Hiashi. Her heart ricochets against her ribs, drumming out a painful beat. A heat builds behind her eyes, tears threatening to spill. Clasping her hands together, Honoka renders her face blank. She keeps her back straight and looks straight at Hiashi.   
  
“I never wanted to become a mother,” she spits out.   
  
Hiashi reels back.   
  
“But a mother I became,” she continues. “You scorn me for my- my cowardice. Then do better. Your cousins will seek retribution for this upheaval. If they find no viable target, they will turn on you and yours. Protect your daughter. Be the parent I… I never was.”   
  
Hiashi swallows loudly, and says nothing. His shoulders sag, and he lowers his eyes. He looks smaller suddenly, like he's four years old and clinging to her kimono, begging for her to stay.    
  
Though her point has been made, Honoka presses on. “You might not believe it, but Hizashi’s death will wound me. I will advocate for his execution anyway, while also pretending that Uchiha Shisui and the introduction of the Sharingan into our family tree is worth this humiliation. And for the rest of your life, Hiashi, you must be perfect. The world has seen and scented your weakness. Weak men cannot afford to spare their treacherous brothers.”   
  
“I am not weak.”   
  
“Prove it,” says Honoka. “Lead your clan towards a path they do not want. Show them that you too are willing to do whatever it takes to preserve our family.”   
  
“I...” Hiashi swallows, his face twisted into a sour expression, like he’s just had to swallow rotten meat.   
  
Honoka suppresses a relieved sigh. At least one of her sons will live through this.


	15. Blame Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikoto visits Kushina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a Hyuuga sentry at the entrance to the village who doesn't bat a white eye at Itachi’s arrival. Itachi chooses to take that as a good sign. Surely the village would have descended into chaos if the hearing exploded into catastrophe?
> 
> Itachi almost goes straight home, but shakes himself out of it halfway there. Everything is as he left it the day before. He has a mission to report. The sooner he gets all the details about the missing-nin down on paper, the less he’s bound to forget.
> 
> He stops by a food stand on his way to Mission Tower because the smell reminded him that he’d forgotten to eat his rations in his haste to get back home. The lady behind the counter smiles sadly when she offers him a complementary mint, and Itachi gets a queer feeling in his chest. Maybe the trial did go south, but just for the Uchiha, and he’ll find nothing but ashes when he gets home.
> 
> Thankfully, he notices a pair of police officers in line at a ramen stand before his heart runs away from him. He nods at the lady behind the counter and takes the mint.
> 
>  
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11279763/chapters/28297929)

Kicked out, Mikoto returns to her childhood home. Rakshasha has so graciously allowed her to settle in. It’s like being a teenager again, living with her aging grandmother on the far side of the Uchiha compound. The world had felt so very big back then, and the future had been a shapeless, murky mess. It was terrifying then, and it’s terrifying now.

But no matter how much of a hectic disaster her life might be, Mikoto refuses to neglect her boys. Her boy. Itachi is already a man by their rules, even though his wrists are still delicate and his nature obedient and deceptively soft. She aches for him, for the attention he’s drawn and even the people he has killed and will kill, but he is not hers anymore. 

It’s Sasuke who demands her attention most of all - young, weak, trusting, and defenseless. Mikoto has Kushina’s support, and thus the Hokage's support (to a certain extent), but the noose tightens around Sasuke’s oblivious neck with every passing second. Fugaku is more furious than Mikoto has ever seen. Worst of all, he’s back home, apparently ready to assume his role as Clan Head once more. What if he convinces the rest of the Uchiha that fighting for Sasuke is more trouble than it’s worth?   
  
Mikoto sighs, rubbing her forehead in a futile attempt to ease a throbbing headache, then goes back to preparing food for Sasuke. Diced cherry tomatoes drizzled with garlic powder and olive oil. A single boiled egg mashed with a small white potato. And one piece of dark chocolate-covered raisin that Sasuke pretends to like only because they are Itachi’s favorite candy. They will do little to stem Sasuke’s flood of tears once she tells him that no, he can’t come home yet.   
  
She’s packing the meal into an insulated lunch bag when she senses Itachi enter the kitchen, footsteps soft and inaudible. It’s not so uncommon for him to visit Rakshasha. The old bat enjoys using him as her personal errand boy. He must think it a funny coincidence to also find her here. She’ll have to tell him the truth about her separation with Fugaku. It won’t be… a pleasant conversation. But she won’t say a thing unless he asks. He has to ask first. 

She’s a right rotten coward, really. She can’t simply come out and say so. No. Mikoto turns around, with a dry comment about what an excellent ninja he is on the tip of her tongue.  But she stops dead at the sight of him. His eyes are red - not Sharingan red, but red around the irises because he’s been crying.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice doesn't shake, but only just.   
  
Itachi is not a crier. She doesn’t remember the last time she saw tears on his pale cheeks.  
  
“Nothing,” says Itachi. But his voice sounds different - thin, like he’s hurt his throat sobbing.  
  
“Okay.” Itachi is an adult now, and it’s not polite to pry about an adult’s secrets. “I’m going to visit Sasuke. Do you want to come with me?”  
  
“No,” says Itachi, hiccupping. For a second, Mikoto fears that he will start crying again, but he turns around and walks away from her.  
  
“Itachi,” she calls out, with a low groan. She grabs the lunch bag and follows him, thoughts about his supposed adulthood be damned. “Itachi, what’s wrong? Was it your mission?”  
  
“The mission was fine,” says Itachi, pausing at the front door.   
  
Rakshasha would make a snide comment and simply order him to tell her what was wrong, but Mikoto hasn't felt so many oceans away from her grandmother’s privileges since she was a teenager.   
  
“Then let’s go visit Sasuke,” she says. “He’ll be disappointed if I go visit him alone.”  
  
“I don't feel like it.” Itachi slips on his sandals and slides the front door open. “He’ll ask why he can't come home, and I’m tired of having to lie to him.”  
  
Mikoto watches the fan symbol on his back as he retreats, then sags against the wall of Rakshasha’s home, her chest tight. It’s the first time since the entire debacle began that Itachi has openly shown contempt for her. She had not been ready for it.  
  
All because of one moment of weakness in a lifetime of being all-but-perfect. Mikoto has gone over the instant when she kissed Hyuuga Hizashi countless times since Sasuke opened his eyes for the first time. She can’t fully explain it to this day, unless she conceptualizes the hospital as a battlefield where she’d almost lost her son, and her temporary insanity as a result of battle fatigue. Ninja fucked each other after dangerous missions and near-death experiences all the time. The mental health people even warned against starting relationships during those kinds of fugue states, as they almost always went south. She doubts Fugaku would take kindly to that excuse.  
  
Well, Rakshasha is right about one thing - there’s no point in ruminating about past mistakes. Mikoto rolls her shoulders and heads to Kushina’s on her own, certain that if she lets Itachi blow off steam, he’ll come around. She travels to Kushina’s as fast as she can without sending the wrong message to the ANBU stationed all over the village. Or the ever-present Hyuuga sentries. The last thing she needs is people assuming that there’s been another emergency.   
  
Kushina is outside with the boys, supervising a game of tag. Mikoto watches the game from a tree branch after signaling to the ANBU guard on duty that everything is fine. Much like Itachi, visiting Sasuke takes a toll on her. He invariably asks to go home at the end of the visit, and cries when told that he must stay.   
  
“Okay, boys,” Kushina is saying, “I hid a bunch of bells all over the house.” She shows them a bell the size of a child’s fist decorated with a simple seal that, as far as Mikoto can tell, won’t do much on its own except muffle sound. “Your mission is to find them all and bring them to me.”  
  
“Okay, okay!” says little Naruto, nodding so vigorously that Mikoto fears his head will roll right off his neck. “And whoever finds more, wins.”  
  
If Sasuke thinks to use his Byakugan, Naruto has little hope of winning such a game. Unless he follows Sasuke around and takes the bells by force. Naruto is a year older than Sasuke, and at their age, that might as well be a lifetime.   
  
“No,” says Kushina, shaking her head. “This is a teamwork mission. I want you to work together to find them.”     
  
“But that’s boring,” complains Naruto.   
  
“It’s practice for real ninja recon missions, is what it is,” says Kushina. “What does your Papa say all the time, Naruto?”  
  
“How would I know? He never says anything to me.”   
  
Well. Trouble in paradise? Mikoto wishes that wasn’t comforting somehow.  
  
“Papa says you’re supposed to work with other Konoha ninja, not fight with them,” says Sasuke, oblivious to the sudden tension.   
  
Yes, Fugaku does say that when Sasuke declares that he’s going to beat Itachi at some random thing or other.   
  
“Your papa sounds like a smart man, Sasuke-chan,” says Kushina, ruffling Sasuke’s hair. “I bet you’ll be as good a ninja as your brother one day.”  
  
Oh, what the hell is Kushina doing? The chances of that are slim. Why set the kid up for failure?  
  
“I’m gonna be as strong as Itachi too, right Mama?” Naruto practically pushes Sasuke aside to get Kushina’s attention.  
  
“Yes, of course,” says Kushina. “But bein’ strong ain’t enough. You gotta look out for each other. The elders in Uzushio taught us that everything’s connected. Like a thread in a tapestry, if a single one gets pulled, the whole thing can unravel. That’s why you gotta help each other.”  
  
Naruto nods excitedly. 

Sasuke bows and says, “Okay, Mama.”

Mikoto stops breathing.  
  
“What?” Naruto whirls around to Sasuke. “She’s my mom, not yours.”  
  
“Naruto,” says Kushina, grabbing his arm.  
  
“S-sorry,” says Sasuke.  
  
“That’s okay, Sasuke-chan,” says Kushina, and then she turns to Naruto and lets displeasure color her voice. “A real ninja doesn’t yell at their teammates for little, innocent mistakes. Apologize to your teammate.”  
  
“Okay,” says Naruto, frowning. “I’m sorry, Sasuke.”  
  
“Good, good,” says Kushina. “Now you accept the apology, Sasuke.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
“And now we shake hands,” says Kushina.  
  
Naruto and Sasuke do so, as quickly as they can.  
  
“And now we go off on the mission,” says Kushina, ushering them away. “And no fighting!”  
  
Children have short memories. Chances are neither Naruto or Sasuke will remember the ‘Mama incident’ by the end of the hour, but Mikoto will probably remember it on her deathbed. 

Sighing, Kushina flickers to the tree branch right next to Mikoto. “Boar, go make sure they don’t start fighting again,” she says, running her fingers through her hair.

“Yes, ma’am,” says the ANBU guard.  
  
“So, Sasuke’s… adjusting, more or less,” Kushina tells her, as Boar disappears. “I didn’t realize a three-year-old could be so well-behaved. He hasn’t broken anything the entire time he’s been here. In Uzushio, we just let ‘em run wild.”  
  
“All children need discipline,” says Mikoto. “And honesty.”  
  
“I detect unexpected disapproval,” says Kushina.  
  
“Don’t tell them they’ll be as good as Itachi,” says Mikoto. “They probably won’t be.”

“You don’t know that. It’s not like Itachi’s some kind of demigod.”

Mikoto doesn’t say anything. She only has so much energy to spare on pointless arguments.   
  
“Why you skulkin’ up here, anyways?” asks Kushina. “Sasuke’s been asking for you.”  
  
“No, he’s not.” Mikoto knows her boys. “He’s asking for Itachi.”   
  
“He’s asking for his family,” insists Kushina. “If there was an older boy here, he’d probably be calling them Nii-san.”  
  
Oh, great. Now Mikoto’s getting pity. She’s not a child in need of reassurance. She made her bed and will lie on it without complaints. “I didn’t come here for platitudes.”  
  
“Whoa, okay. Someone’s in a mood.”  
  
“What do you want me to say, exactly? I’m not even sorry for what I did because, fucked as things are now, I wouldn’t have Sasuke if I hadn’t slept with Hizashi.” Mikoto drags in a shuddering breath, her nails digging into the tree bark. “And now, I might lose my baby… If the Hyuuga don’t… Sasuke might…”

Kushina is silent. Mikoto can feel her gaze, heavy with concern. She turns away, scrubbing her eyes. Perfect. Now she’s tearing up. How utterly pathetic.

“You Konoha nin and your clans,” Kushina mutters with a huff. “If the Hyuuga try anything, yanno, Sasuke can stay with us.”

Mikoto whips around, staring at her. “What.”

“I mean, yanno, I’m jus’ sayin’. If neither of your clans reach an agreement, then I could… take custody of Sasuke. We’re a neutral, third party. Well, neutral-ish.”

“You can’t,” Mikoto says, her voice faint with disbelief.

An outside family adopting a clan child? It’s tantamount to theft. It’s the crime she’s being accused of. But she  _ has _ blood ties to Sasuke. Her claim is valid no matter what the Hyuuga say. It’s different for Kushina, with no familial connections whatsoever. The clans can’t just let anybody walk up and claim their children. It’s absurd, preposterous,  _ insane _ .

“I’m just-”

“You  _ can’t _ ,” Mikoto repeats, more firmly.

Kushina shrugs, rubbing the nape of her neck. “I’m just throwing it out there, yanno? It’s an idea.

“Wha- Why-  _ How _ could you even suggest that? Sasuke is an _ Uchiha _ !”

“Hey, hey, now. Don’t get all fired up, geez. I was just… Would it be so bad if I took him in?”

Mikoto opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “I don’t- That’s not the point!”

“So then, why can’t I-”

“Because you’re not family! Kushina, you don’t understand. It’s not about your parenting skills. It’s not even about us- That is, you’re my friend. My very, dear friend. But that doesn’t make you family. That doesn’t make you  _ clan _ .”

Kushina’s mouth twists. “In Uzushio-” 

"In Uzushio, in Uzushio, in Uzushio. Oh lord, if I had a ryo for every time you said that, I could buy out the daimyo. Newsflash, Kushina! This is Konoha! It doesn't matter what they did in Uzushio! There's nothing left of it!"

Kushina rears back as if slapped. Mikoto breathes in sharply, raising a hand to her mouth. A stifling silence stretches out between them, taut as any tripwire. Kushina colors a splotchy red, lips pressed thin and white. Her chakra lashes out - a brief, blinding wave tinged with a heat nowhere near human. 

"I…” Mikoto starts, fumbling for the right words. “That's not-"

"There is,” Kushina says, cutting her off. 

"Ah?"

"There is something left. I'm still here, ain't I?” She looks away from Mikoto, reigning back her chakra. “And- And I ain't some kinda idiot! I know I live in Konoha. Why do you think I keep talking about Uzushio? I'm just- I'm trying not to forget, yanno?!"

"No. That's. I was way out of line."

"Damn right you-"

"But I'd appreciate it if you didn't revive Uzushio cultural practices through my son. He's Konoha, born and bred. And he's mine. We don't have communal childrearing here. You'll just have to respect that. Please."

Kushina faces Mikoto, holding her gaze before breathing out. "Fair."  
  
They fall silent once more. Mikoto lifts her eyes, studying the clouds. The sky is unbearably clear. It’s so inconsiderate to not match her mood. 

Kushina clears her throat. “So… how’s Fugaku holding up?”

Mikoto shrugs, sighing. “Fugaku kicked me out. Can’t say I blame him.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I didn’t tell him Hizashi’s the father.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I was stupid, okay? And now Fugaku thinks Itachi might not be his either.”   
  
Oh, fuck. That’s what happened, isn’t it? Itachi had gone straight home after his mission, and The Sage only knows what Fugaku said to him, but it’d driven him to tears. Fuck him. Mikoto’s good will only goes so far.  
  
“Is he?” asks Kushina.  
  
Mikoto gives her a flat look.  
  
“It’s a fair question, under the circumstances,” says Kushina.   
  
“He is.” The inevitable medical tests will prove it. Even if Fugaku can be persuaded to see reason, the Hyuuga will be assholes about it and demand proof that Itachi is not somehow hiding a Byakugan.   
  
“Well, I guess that’s good.”  
  
“I think my marriage is over either way,” says Mikoto.   
  
“That’s. . . that’s something. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Yeah, me too.” She’s almost surprised about that, considering how much she’d hoped for her marriage to fail once. “Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!


	16. Love Lockdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minato and Fugaku have a nice afternoon chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itachi doesn’t remember why he rushed to Mikoto after Fugaku... This is all her fault. He’d tried not to dwell on it because it’s not his place to judge what his mother does, but the sight of her calmly cooking while everything burned around her because--because she couldn’t just... He doesn’t even care about the particulars - or at least, he thought he hadn’t - but in Grandmother’s kitchen, he’d wanted to fight his mother. And Itachi never wants to fight anybody.
> 
> He almost burst into tears again after storming out of Grandmother’s house, but he lives in a ninja clan. People are always watching. If he’s a crybaby, everyone will know. And then! And then, someone might take time out of their busy day to come comfort him or something. That would be the worst.
> 
> He’s back on the mission roster. He could go take a few C-ranks, or steal a D-rank from some genin. That’s the obvious solution, but he drags his feet. He could visit Sasuke, but Sasuke gets hysterical every time Itachi tries to leave. There's no need to further impose on Kushina-san. And mother will be visiting them soon. He would really like to avoid her for now, or maybe for ever. Finally, he could visit Shisui. But he's been called away, probably by ANBU, for something important. Itachi has not seen much of him since his return from the frontlines. It's a blessing, really. Itachi can barely look him in the eyes after Kumo kidnapped Sasuke almost right under his nose.
> 
> Before this whole mess started, Itachi would have just trained, or meditated, or something. But all his training prior to Orochimaru's attack has amounted to nothing. Why keep doing something that has proven ineffective? And he might not even be the Uchiha heir after all, so there’s no need to worry about being prepared for that anymore either. 
> 
> [read more](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11279763/chapters/28822779)

Minato arrives at the Uchiha estate, the terms of the agreement tucked under his arm. He knocks on the door.  
  
"Mikoto-san! Are you in? I had some new developments for the trade I'd like to speak with you about."  
  
There's a lengthy pause. Minato knocks again.   
  
"Mikoto-san?"  
  
He hears a crash, several metallic things rolling away, followed by excessive cursing. A half-minute later,  there's footsteps and then the door is slammed open. Uchiha Fugaku stands before him, swaying on his feet, eyes bloodshot, and stinking of weed.  
  
"Oh, um, Fugaku-san! I didn't know you were discharged from the hospital. You, umm..." Minato coughs, clearing his throat. "So. Is Mikoto-san home?"  
  
"Why? You gonna fuck her too?"   
  
Minato splutters, feeling his face flush. "Ah... Ahahaha, so you... Er... You heard, then?"  
  
"I kicked her cheating ass out. She fucked off to I don't give a shit."  
  
"I see..."  
  
Fugaku lists a little more to the side, until he's leaning against the doorway.  
  
Minato frowns, brows pinching. "Are you... By any chance, are you home alone, Fugaku-san?"  
  
"Yes. And? Itachi was here, but the boy fucked off too. The little... Fuck, I don't care. The boy isn’t even mine. I don't care."  
  
Minato feels his gut clench in the way it hasn't since he was a chuunin first being deployed to the front.  
  
"What do you mean? What's this about Itachi?"  
  
"Well. Maybe. The boy wouldn't let me get him tested. Did you know? Me and that cuckolding bastard are neighbors! Neighbors! The motherfucker - probably fucked my Mom too."  
  
"Isn't your mother dead?"  
  
"Your point?"  
  
Minato sighs. "Are you... allowed to be smoking? Considering your lung condition and everything?"  
  
There's an extended beat before realization dawns on Fugaku. "Oh shit." Then his face promptly sours. "The hell with it anyway. Thinks he can fuck my wife. Well, fuck him. And fuck his advice. I’ll fuck up my lungs if I want to."  
  
Minato nods, pretending to understand. Mentally, he’s pinpointing his nearest Hiraishin marker.  
  
Fugaku squints at him. "What? You going to tell on me? For not following the good ol' cuckoldin' doctor’s orders?"  
  
Minato purses his lips. He glances down at the terms of agreement still tucked under his arm. Then he looks up and down the street, for wherever Mikoto or Itachi went. Then he thought about Itachi - the new and exciting mess he'd have to deal with. With all that in mind, Minato simply shakes his head.  
  
"Actually, I was hoping if I could bum a blunt off you."  
  
Fugaku blinks at him, appearing to process the question. Then he smirks and steps aside, allowing Minato to enter. It’s the liveliest Minato has seen him since… Well, ever, actually. Now that he thinks about it. He follows Fugaku to the kitchen, where a still-smoking blunt sits in an ashtray. Next to it, there’s a pouch stamped with the Akimichi symbol. It’s tipped over, and clumps of marijuana have spilled out. Fugaku proceeds to roll up two blunts, one for himself and the other for Minato.  
  
Ten minutes later, the two are in the backyard, seated against a tree. A soft breeze rustles the branches above them as they idly blow out smoke.  
  
"You know," Minato says, halfway through his blunt. "I honestly didn't think I'd live this long."  
  
Fugaku offers a questioning grunt.  
  
"I mean, after the war with Iwa. Now Kumo. And even before everything, remember when we were kids and it was Kiri on the other side? Sage help us. We've fought everybody. There's been so many wars."  
  
"Didn't peg you for a chatty stoner."  
  
"Hah. Well. I get all philosophical. Jiraiya-sensei once took me to one of those hookah parlors in Suna. I was supposed to chill out, yanno? Stop being such a hardass. And I just started contemplating about child fatality rates in shinobi villages. Sorry. I'll stop if you want.”  
  
"Hell. I threw my wife out. Drove away my eldest son - possibly my only son. Possibly, I don't have any sons. So whatever. Go on with your... What was it?"  
  
"I just never thought I'd live to be 28. I always thought I'd die before 25. Or 20. Or 15. But here I am. Still going."  
  
“Tch, I don’t know about that. You're a damn genius - always been something else. Left us morons in the dust."  
  
"That's... Heh, not to be too conceited. But that's how I figured I'd die so soon. I'd do something no one else could do, that no one else could do for me. And that's how I'd die."  
  
"Shit. Sorry you're still kicking around then. Your life must be so fucking hard."  
  
Minato throws his head back and laughs. "You assholes keep making sure of that. Might be better if I was dead. Have Hiruzen take care of your bullshit."  
  
"We'd probably die."  
  
"Huh? What'd you mean?"  
  
"It's not Sarutobi I'm worried about. Mind you. It's that damn shadow at his foot. Shimura would have us all be killed to spare everyone the grief."  
  
"What? No. You're... That's the weed talking."  
  
"Mmm. Believe me or not. It doesn't matter. You're the Hokage, not them."  
  
"Hah. Hokage, am I? Please. I'm just the poor, sorry fuck that's gotta deal with all your bullshit twice-over."  
  
"Yeah. But you're our poor, sorry fuck."  
  
“I’m so flattered.” Minato takes a long pull and breathes out. 

Fugaku says nothing more. Silence settles snugly between them. They lean back, listening to distant birdsong, the weed kicking in. Several minutes pass.

"So,” Fugaku sighs, sounding half-asleep. “What'd you come here for? It wasn't to get high, am I right? Hokage-sama?"   
  
Minato laughs. "No. I came…” He pauses, searching his memory. “Oh, right. I came to tell Mikoto-san that Hyuuga Hiashi has accepted the trade."   
  
Fugaku chokes on his next breath. He starts coughing hard and turns to look at him, eyes wide open. "...Well. Fuck."   
  
"Yes... Hiashi-san doesn't want a war. Very wise of him."   
  
"They're letting this go? Really?"   
  
"Well. Shisui-san still has to marry one of theirs and forever be a Hyuuga. But yes. Essentially."   
  
"None of that Caged Bird shit."   
  
"Nope."   
  
"Hot damn."   
  
"I know. I was going to ask Mikoto-san if she wanted any- any, what do you call it? Uh… Uh…” Minato presses a hand over his eyes. “Fuck, I know this. Ad-Ad-Ad-something…” He snaps his fingers. “Addendums! That’s the word. Addendums.” 

Fugaku hums thoughtfully. “Uhuh.”

“I was going to ask if she wanted any addendums or changes to the terms. Maybe even decline it altogether. Gods, I hope not."   
  
"Shit, you don't have to ask her. I can tell you right now."   
  
Minato pinches his brow. "Wait… But… Isn’t Mikoto acting head of the clan?"   
  
"I’m not in the hospital. Or, like, disabled. There's no reason I can't be- be... reinstated and whatever. Clan head, etc.”   
  
"Oh." Minato stares at him for a good minute.

Fugaku stares back.   
  
"...Then,” Minato starts slowly, “are there any addendums or changes to the trade you'd like to add? Or would you like to decline the agreement altogether?"   
  
Fugaku takes a long pull of his blunt. "Just one change. I don’t want any Uchiha - I mean, no Uchihas. None. Zero. At- at risk for that Seal shit. Not Uchiha Shisui and his children. Not Uchiha Sasuke and his children. And not any- any unknown bastards running around."   
  
"Like Itachi, you mean."

Fugaku grunts, stifling another cough. Minato nods, thinking it over. They fall silent again. The sun is sinking lower on the horizon. The sky turns a wildfire orange. It’s so very pretty. Minato stares at all the pretty colors for a long moment before shaking his head.

“...You know.” Minato had something important to say. He did. He just can’t remember. “Fuck.” 

“I do know fuck,” Fugaku chuckles. “It’s basically my life now.”

“Deep. Wait, no. That’s not- I was going to- Something about Itachi? Oh, yeah. I can order Itachi to get tested.”

Fugaku blinks slowly. “You can do that?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s- It’s a matter of security. Or something. Village security. Yeah… That’s it...”

Minato starts searching his pockets. Fugaku grunts, shifting away to avoid an elbow. Pulling out his comm scroll, Minato stares blankly at it. 

“What’s wrong?” Fugaku asks.

“Uh… Sorry, just…” Minato laughs. “Man. That’s some strong stuff you got.”

“Akimichi Chunhua knows what she’s about.”

“I forgot how to use this thing for a second… Aah…”

Minato bites his thumb and presses a bead of blood against the scroll. It glows briefly before unfurling. The paper is touch sensitive, and without needing ink, Minato simply scribbles away a brief message to Kakashi with his finger. 

“My wife invented this, you know,” Minato says, grinning smugly.

“I’m aware,” Fugaku rolls his eyes. “You told me this already. When she first made one.”

“She’s so smart. I love her.”

Fugaku scowls, his brow twitching. “Would you send the message already?” 

“I am, I am. Sheesh, no need to be so pushy.” Minato signs the message and activates the embedded seals. The scroll glows again, turning blank once more.

“I’m not being-” Fugaku shuts his mouth, breathing out loudly. “Whatever. Just… Forget it.”

Minato eyes him. “You know… Itachi resembles you a lot.”

“Save it. I don’t need your sympathy.”

“I’m just saying… That’s good… You have something in common. You- You  _ get _ each other, and stuff. Even if - and it’s a big  _ if - _ he’s not yours, that’s more than what I have.”

Fugaku squints at him. “What are you on about?”

Minato shrugs, putting away the scroll. “It’s just… You know... Naruto’s got my hair and my eyes, but that’s all he got. The rest is from Kushina. I don’t really know how to deal with that.”  
  
“He’s, what? Four? Give him time. Maybe he’ll tone down a bit when he gets older.”  
  
“Maybe. I just… Did you have the same problems with Itachi and Sasuke?”  
  
“Nah. They’re pretty quiet kids. But that’s… I got no idea what Hizashi was like, so I can’t tell if Sasuke got anything from him besides the obvious. And Itachi…” Fugaku pauses, taking a drag from his blunt. “I mean… I was pretty quiet as a kid. Or he might just take after Mikoto. Hard to tell, really.”  
  
“Sounds rough, buddy.”  
  
“Yeah... Still. They were easy to raise.”  
  
Minato chuckles. “Classy. Just rubbing that in, are you?”  
  
Fugaku shrugs. “Eh. Gotta see an upside to this whole mess.”  
  
“Yeah… You got something good going on here.”

“ _ Had _ . I don’t got anything anymore.”

“Is it really over between you and Mikoto?”

Fugaku doesn’t answer, just takes another drag of his blunt.

Minato hums thoughtfully. “Why don’t you- I mean, Sasuke is at my place. And you’ve never visited him.” 

“Why should I? You’re taking care of him, aren’t you? It’s not like I’m expecting you to abuse him. There’s no reason for me to visit.”

“But… It’s just... Shouldn’t you- I don’t know…”

“Just spit it out.” 

“Shouldn’t you say goodbye?”

Fugaku stares at Minato for a second before turning away. “...I don’t know if I should. It’s a bad idea.”

“What? How?”

“Sasuke doesn’t even know what’s happening. He’ll just cry, and I don’t- I’ve never-”

“It’s a baby, not a bomb. What? You’ve never dealt with your kid crying before?”

Fugaku gives him a flat look.

Minato shakes his head. “Oh, for the love of-” He rises to his feet, tugging Fugaku up. “Come on.”

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Fugaku yells, struggling to get away.

But Minato holds on tight. “No. You’re going to see Sasuke.”

“Why? I don’t have to do anything!”

“Are you really just going to let your kid go?”

“He’s not my kid!”

“He’s been your kid for the last three years! And you’re not going to say goodbye? You’re a stoic bastard. But you’re not heartless.”

Fugaku clicks his tongue and pulls away from Minato. He glares at him, but without any heat. Then he rubs a hand down his face and stands up.

“Fine, okay. Let’s just go,” he says. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

Fugaku pushes past Minato and leaps onto the roof. Minato grins and follows him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!


End file.
